Crossing the Line
by Darksoar
Summary: Hiatus.
1. Crossing the Line Prologue

Disclaimer: G.I. Joe and Ranma ½ are most definitely not mine. Wish I could claim otherwise though..

Timeline:

G.I. Joe is around five months before the events in G.I. Joe the Movie. It has been a year and a half ever since the episodes of Arise Serpentor Arise took place.

Ranma ½ is three weeks after Ranma's battle with Saffron.

The year is 1987

A G.I. Joe/Ranma ½ Crossover

Crossing the Line

By Darksoar

Prologue:

The office of General Clayton Abernathy was filled with some of the higher ranked officers in G.I. Joe; a special mission force first assembled by General Flagg in the late 1970s to protect America from threats to freedom. They were in discussion about the lack of recent action by Cobra, a terrorist organization bent on world domination. G.I. Joe had already prevented nearly a hundred of Cobra's plans trying to do so.

"It's been a while since we've heard from Cobra, hasn't it?"

"Yes sir, General Hawk. Though I'm glad for the break, I've got a gut feeling that they're building up for something big."

Hawk grimaced, and it wasn't from the bitter tasting coffee. Taking a sip, he replied, "That's what bothers me the most. Duke," he said, turning to G.I. Joe's first sergeant, "has Mainframe or Dial Tone intercepted any information that could give us a clue on what Cobra might be up to this time?"

Duke crossed his arms over his chest, frowning in concentration. He was one of the Joes' earliest officers, having been enlisted in the mid 70's. "No sir, I haven't heard anything from them. Do you want me to get them to check back with me on a daily basis, General Hawk?"

"Hold that thought. How about you, Flint?"

Sgt. Dashiell R. Faireborn, whose code name was Flint, was a Warrant Officer and also one of the best tactical planners Hawk had ever seen. He had drafted and personally led a half dozen rescue missions in hostile territories that for obvious reasons of security were never publicized let alone admitted to. And that was before he joined G.I. Joe.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Duke, General Hawk. It also gives me the goosebumps that the snakes," he referred to the Joes universal nickname for Cobra, "have been laying low for sometime now without a peep. Come to think of it, this is the longest that they've gone without Cobra Commander or Serpentor cooking up some bizarre scheme."

Hawk's brows furrowed in deep thought. After a few seconds of organizing his thoughts, he said with authority, "Okay, this is I want done. Duke, I want you coordinate with Mainframe, Dial Tone and their respective tech crews. Tell them that to increase their efforts at scanning for any hint of anything that Cobra might be planning. No matter how small it is; even if it's a bounced check by one of the Dreadnoks, I don't care. I want a weekly report on the most interesting things they've picked up."

Switching his attention to Flint, Hawk said, "Flint, I want you to work with Sergeant Slaughter, Beach Head, Gung Ho and Leatherneck to intensify our current training program. Make it unpredictable in order to push our boys and girls to their limits. I want progress reports that show just that, progress, and lots of it."

Returning to his desk and sitting down, he eyed both men sternly. "The reason I am doing this, gentlemen, is that several times in the past we've been caught with our pants down by Cobra. I trust both of you remember when Cobra introduced the B.A.T. to us a few months back?" Both officers nodded, grimacing slightly at that memory.

"Well, all I can say is that if indeed Cobra is building up for something big, we can't afford to be caught unprepared. We must be prompt and able to counter anything those snakes throw at us, within a minute's notice." He didn't really have to explain his orders to them, but Hawk had always felt that it cut down on rumors and speculation.

Taking a moment's breather, the commanding officer of G.I. Joe added, "Any questions?" Flint and Duke said simultaneously, "None, sir."

Nodding in satisfaction, Hawk said, "Good. Remember those reports. Dismissed."

Saluting briskly, both men left their superior's office.

* * *

At that exact moment in Cobra Terror Dome, ironically, Cobra Commander was having a meeting with his underlings.

Well, he thought of them as underlings. They probably thought of themselves as primary movers and shakers in Cobra. The ungrateful fools owed it to him, for he had founded Cobra in the beginning! He managed to calm himself down slightly enough to proceed with his latest plan, which, unfortunately, they didn't like. And their arguments were?

"Too risky!" retorted Zartan, leader of the Dreadnoks.

Baroness, a beautiful yet deadly European aristocrat turned international terrorist, was the next to voice her dissent. "How will we effectively sentry the entire boundaries of the country? Even from here, I can see a hundred different ways that the Joes can sneak in past whatever patrol we can muster."

"The cost of hiring new men and constructing patrol vehicles is too high," Crimson Guard Commander Tomax remarked in his low-pitched, British accent. Without a pause, his twin brother Xamot continued for him, "We cannot possibly support it under our current budget, Cobra Commander!" The two of them spoke in this manner all the time, completing the other twin's sentences. They also felt what the other was feeling if they were separated over a certain distance. It was highly speculated that all this was due to a telepathic connection between them.

Casting an aggravated eye upon the group that stood before him in that Conference/Planning room, he mastered his growing rage and then began speaking.

"Your concerns are not necessary at this point," he informed them with a shaking finger, "because I have just begun my presentation," he continued scornfully, "Now, if you have the patience to let me finish my strategy, then please allow me to do so. Then you can state your concerns then! Any comments?" When none were forthcoming, other than dubious shakings of the head and amused smirks, Cobra Commander turned his attention towards his planning.

When he was going to continue speaking, that was when the next question was asked. 'Impatient, disrespectful fools!' he silently raged.

"But, most impressive leader, what is Lord Serpentor's opinion of your proposition? Surely you have informed him; after all, he is the Emperor of Cobra." The snippiness and slight mocking tone of Destro's question raised Cobra Commander's hackles.

"Do not worry about that, Destro. I, Serpentor, have seen fit to give my grudging approval of Cobra Commander's scheme. It is a rare event that happens when he doesn't attempt to slither around behind my back, so I decided to be gracious this time and listened to his ramblings."

At hearing a new voice entering the briefing, all of Cobra's leaders turned to see Serpentor, striding arrogantly into the room. He was dressed in his usual outfit; gold scaled snakehead helmet that extended into a yellow mouth and uniform with and central chest padding. This time, his pet serpents that were usually on his shoulders were absent. Everyone, including Cobra Commander (who barely did so), instantly went down on one knee and lowered their heads.

When they were standing again, Serpentor smiled mirthlessly, thinking of the plan both he and Cobra Commander had developed together. True, the incompetent idiot did come up with the basic idea at first, but there had been many errors present within the initial plan. After pointing out some of the more glaringly obvious ones that the Commander's stupidity had failed to realize, Serpentor had quickly grown impatient.

Frustrated at Cobra Commander's lack of foresight, he had cursed his faceplated subordinate and kicked him out of the Throne Room. But since the plan, despite it's many flaws, had strangely appealed to him. Instead of ordering Cobra Commander to dispose of it, he threatened him to heavily revise it before presenting it to him again.

It was a week after that before a final version was judged acceptable (barely) by the Emperor of Cobra. During those seven days, Cobra Commander had been verbally humiliated, physically assaulted, and even chased by Serpentor's Hover Chariot all around Cobra Island. All those had happened because the Commander had greatly tasked Serpentor's limited patience.

Then the impossible had happened. For once, Cobra Commander had actually swallowed his pride, absorbed the abuse, and that had slightly impressed Serpentor. Serpentor had told Cobra Commander that although he would allow this plan of his to go through, he would also receive most of the credit for it.

Eventually though, with countless revisions, tactical planning strategies, and contingency plans with Cobra Commander, Dr. Mindbender, Major Bludd, and Firefly, Cobra's saboteur specialist, the finishing touches had been applied. Personally, Serpentor had given it a fifty five percent chance of working, which was a much higher rating than other earlier schemes. But the real reason why he even accepted it was because this was the first time he and Cobra Commander had seen eye to eye on a plan. Despite Serpentor's lack of faith in the Commander's abilities, he supposed that even useless lackeys had a rare glimmer of a halfway decent idea.

"Oh, mighty Emperor, I was hoping you would show up. I was just about to inform these buffoons," he pointed directly at the group, "that they were risking your wrath in insulting this masterpiece of a plan."

The twins, Baroness, Destro and Zartan threw death glares at their second in leadership, but couldn't say anything. Though none of them truly feared or respected Cobra Commander, the same could not be applied to the Emperor himself.

Although having been created from all the genes of history's greatest conquerors and leaders, he was unstable, unpredictable and extremely dangerous when angered. Usually it was Cobra Commander who had the misfortune of being Serpentor's favorite scapegoat; they weren't eager in experiencing it for themselves, not even once.

Speaking in his high pitched, grating hiss of a voice, Cobra Commander bowed towards the Emperor of Cobra. "Do you want to take over this briefing, or shall I, noble lord?"

At hearing this, mixed looks of astonishment, disgust, and light interest from the assembled officers made themselves evident as they watched this scene of sucking up. Easily ignoring it as nothing, Serpentor just waved Cobra Commander off, then stood beside the holoprojector on the table.

Clearing his throat, he began, "Listen carefully, I do not like to repeat myself. The great nation of Japan offers us an opportunity. Like Cobra Commander said before, it is quite predictable, in regards to their exports, imports, and annual budget, that Japan is extremely successful, motivated, efficient, and is on its way to becoming a world power."

"All those resources that Japan has, will be ours, should we be successful." He paused, then continued, "The land area is slightly smaller than that of the state California in America. That is, as Baroness put it, not exactly easy to cover. However, that is not necessary. We are going to focus only on Tokyo." He pressed the remote, and the hologram changed to a close-up of metropolitan Tokyo.

"You can see here the capital, Tokyo, made up of sixty four wards, or districts." Several different, smaller sections were highlighted in red and separated with yellow boundaries. "Tokyo is the heart of Japan, therefore making it our primary target. And can any of my subjects here who possess at least half a brain guess what our goal is?" He crossed his muscled arms over his padded chest, seemingly waiting.

"To take over Tokyo?" ventured Baroness, not really guessing as opposed to stating the obvious.

Nodding slightly, in mock congratulations, to her, the Emperor of Cobra said, "Exactly. I plan to slip in a number of undercover agents. There will be a random number in each district. Their primary mission will be to familiarize themselves with the layout of the ward they are assigned to, as well as ingratiate themselves with the local law enforcement, law making bodies, and all governing figures. This first duty of theirs is the most important. They must gain the trust as well as create and maintain a relationship with high authority figures."

Meeting the eyes of everyone who stood before him, one by one, he continued, "Once that first step is done, that is when, with the aid of Crimson Guards and other troops in hiding, they will immediately seize them and their families, along with other notables, in a prearranged, inconspicuous location. We shall work our way outer to inner, until we reach Tokyo Metropolis. We shall take the Emperor of Japan, the Prime Minister, and other such important government heads, including the various Ministries, cabinets, and courts hostage. By taking their leaders prisoner, the rest of Japan shall have no choice but to follow our every orders. Once Tokyo and the other districts are secure, and we have suppressed all news, radio, and other information sources successfully, then we shall order martial law in Tokyo Metropolis, as well as in the outer districts."

Having built up momentum, the Cobra Emperor went on, "We shall devote most of our resources in this endeavor. Our aircraft shall patrol the air, and our troops shall setup prison camps to hold selected officials. We shall set curfew throughout the districts, and enforce it with our special police, which will consist of the Dreadnoks, Crimson Guards, and others. Our Battle Android Troopers will patrol the outer boundaries of Tokyo, with orders to shoot anything on sight. We shall have observers, informants, and spies stationed throughout Japan. They shall be assigned to all docks, ports, airports, or any other conceivable entrances or exits into Japan itself."

"But our main security shall be a special satellite that Dr. Mindbender and several teams of technicians, engineers, and scientists have developed. This will be our radar in space that will detect any inbound missile, aircraft, boat, or even submarine. This will be our defense against any attempted covert operation by G.I. Joe."

"We shall be monitoring the satellite from a station in an as of yet undisclosed area. A team of selected Tele-Vipers and Techno-Vipers, under the guidance of Dr. Mindbender shall be responsible for its maintenance and operation. Should there be an attempt to destroy it or alter any of its functions, then we shall give the world the ultimate punishment."

He smiled once again, brown eyes glittering with visions of conquest, victory, and world domination. To the side, Cobra Commander sulked in silence. Although he had agreed to let the unstable genetic mistake take all the credit, it was just one more reason for Cobra to be rid of Serpentor. Well, when they were safely ensconced as the new rulers of Japan, then he would see about getting Serpentor assassinated.

Every Cobra in the room was shocked when they heard their Emperor's next sentence. It was just that unexpected.

"We shall set off a number of nuclear devices and eliminate Tokyo from the map. This I command!"

* * *

At that exact moment, on the other side of the world, in a certain district of Tokyo, a young man woke up.

It was sometime after midnight, and with no other sound besides the loud snoring of his idiotic father, Ranma Saotome wondered why his sleep had been interrupted. He'd already had eaten; he didn't feel a need to use the facilities; Akane wasn't playing a practical joke by waking him with cold water.

When he gradually eliminated all the possible reasons, Ranma focused and found his center. After calming down, he noticed that he was sweating lightly. A nightmare, maybe? He'd die before telling anyone, but several times he'd been having bad dreams of the fight with Saffron going wrong, and Akane being killed. No, it wasn't a nightmare.

All he could tell was for no reason at all, suddenly he had felt a sharp _ping_ from his sixth sense, warning him of danger…somewhere. That was what had awakened him so suddenly. Gradually, he became aware of a sense of vague unease that assailed him to the very center of his core.

Then his stomach growled, not in pain or misery, but in hunger. Being a Saotome, all current concerns were abruptly forgotten as Ranma stood up from his bed to satisfy the sudden craving. Heading out of the room that he and his father shared, he made his way to kitchen.

End Prologue

Author's Notes:

Awright, before you is my second fic ever. Written on a burst of inspiration, I'm not too sure if I am going to continue this. What do you guys think?


	2. Crossing the Line Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This here Ranma ½ anime sure ain't mine, not by a longshot.

Timeline:

G.I. Joe is around five months before the events in G.I. Joe the Movie. It has been a year and a half ever since the episodes of Arise Serpentor Arise took place.

Ranma ½ is three weeks after Ranma's battle with Saffron.

The year is 1987

A G.I. Joe/Ranma ½ Crossover

Crossing the Line

By Darksoar

Chapter 1:

Self Discovery

Part One

It was a bright Sunday afternoon with beautiful weather. Birds chattered and flew about; a mild, cooling breeze swept through the tranquil (for the moment) district of Nerima. A young Japanese teenager, his hair tied in a pigtail and wearing his usual Chinese silken attire, was lying on top of the Tendo household roof.

However, despite all this, Ranma Saotome was not having a good day.

Correction, he was not having a good life.

It had been only three weeks since the free-for-all invitational disaster that at vaguely started out as a wedding. But that wasn't the real problem; the Musabetsu Kakutou practitioner had dealt with worse.

Saffron.

Even the thought of the Phoenix God's name brought the memories of the tragic battle that had taken place at Jusendo. There, Ranma had been forced to fight with Saffron so that he could get the water necessary to save Akane's life. The last image of Saffron's face, just before the Hiryu Shoten Ha struck him, was filled with denial, anger, and shocked amazement. Then he had died.

Only two days after their return to Japan and Akane's miraculous revival, Soun and Genma sprung the surprise wedding on them. But that proved to be a disaster when, informed by Nabiki (for a price, naturally), a group of Ranma's various rivals and other 'fiancées' had crashed it, literally. The end result was the destruction of the Saotome family house and a further straining of the relationship between Ranma and Akane.

For some reason, the disruption of the wedding had turned his fiancée into a vicious wildcat. She had jumped to the conclusion that Ranma had told Nabiki to INVITE them to the wedding for the reason so it couldn't be finished, and so Ranma could escape being married to her. This triggered an incredibly stubborn "hate-Ranma" mode that Akane had been tuned in for almost three weeks. Ever since after the wedding, she had been prone to abrupt mood swings, violent tendencies, and unpredictable behavior, at least where Ranma was concerned. Thanks to that, he had sometimes slipped back into his old routine of insulting her and acting as if he didn't care about her feelings. Actually, Ranma wasn't sure what he felt for her as of now. But one thing was sure, her malice towards him was getting tiresome, and he wasn't feeling too happy about her.

But that wasn't the most important of Ranma's concerns though, and he could dwell on that another day. Right now, he had bigger problems that needed his attention.

Things had happened so fast that it wasn't until a day after the catastrophe, Ranma had some rare free time to himself. He'd abruptly realized something that shook him to the very core of his being. That something had bothered him immensely and it couldn't be ignored.

He had killed.

He, Ranma Saotome, had killed. Against his personal code of martial arts and honor, he had taken the life of someone else. The realization of that act began to weigh down on his conscience, and despite his efforts to try and ignore it, he couldn't. He soon found out that this time was very different from any of his earlier battles. Before he could easily blatantly ignore and shrug off the consequences of his usually rash choices. But now, it was a whole different story.

Ranma felt as if his soul was tarnished with the blood of Saffron. At first, he tried to vigorously scrub his hands clean in the shower until they were red, but to no avail. The powerful, sharp guilt closed upon him with claws of depression and self recrimination. The fact that Saffron had been reborn almost instantly after his death or the fact that he had no other choice available both did not help at all. The result of his victory haunted him in his sleep and also every moment when his mind was idle.

He began to have nightmares, each time replaying the battle, each time with a different ending. In some he'd died, while in others, he'd failed to bring the water to Akane in time. A good portion of those ended the same as the real event, except that Saffron's death was grossly focused on and accentuated. As a result, Ranma had found himself waking in cold sweat late at night.

All those nightmares soon began to have a visible effect on him. Lack of a good night's sleep made him easily irritable and more short-tempered. To make matters worse, his other fiancées and rivals increased their efforts to try and push Ranma and Akane apart.

His sense of his own mortality was sharper now, and more acute. Instead of taking tomorrow for granted, he'd begun to experience a new appreciation for life he'd never known before. Slowly, but steadily, his view on life began to take on a gradual change. Ranma began to think ahead; about how to face the future rather than just wallowing in the present, and about how to learn from the past. With this new philosophy taking root, he took a long look at the past year; at what had transpired ever since he and his father had first arrived at Nerima.

Very quickly, he arrived to the conclusion that his life up to this point had been…less than desirable. To his great dissatisfaction, he came to the startling realization (for him) that ever since he was born and up till the present, he had been controlled or manipulated by others. Since he'd never stopped to see how his life was going, he hadn't been in a position in thinking of ways to improve it.

But now he had.

It all started with his Pops. Genma, Ranma decided, wanted to let his son grow up to be extremely dependent on him and also wanted his son to quickly marry just so he could retire early in life. Soun was an emotional wreck with a total loss of self-control who pushed just as hard as Genma for their two families to be finally united.

Nabiki was the manipulator of all manipulators, and a master blackmailer. Despite all of that, Ranma grudgingly respected her abilities which placed food on the table and just barely kept the Tendo's out of poverty. That respect was all that stopped him from retaliating for all the things she had done to him; he had realized a long time ago that he and his father had added to her burdens, so he let her profit off him. Unlike his father, Ranma's honor demanded that he do something in return for the Tendos in providing free room and board. That didn't mean that he had to like whatever blackmail she did to him, though.

Ranma managed a wry smile of amusement. "I wonder if Nabiki ever realized that all this time I've been letting her get close enough to me to take all those photos." Shrugging, he filed that thought away for later contemplation and went back to cataloging his problems.

Next on the list was, of course, the Amazons. Since the beginning, Cologne and Shampoo had given it their all to try and drag Ranma back to China as Shampoo's husband. In that, they had attempted all sort of things, from magic potions to enchanted items and pressure points. Lately, they'd been quiet for a bit, but Ranma was positive that they were building up for another one of their schemes. While Ranma was grateful of Cologne teaching him some incredibly techniques, he'd be damned if he was going to let himself be reduced to just being Shampoo's foreigner, if highly skilled, husband. There was no way in hell that was going to happen.

Amazingly Mousse had proven himself not to be much of a problem. In fact, Ranma hadn't suffered an attack by the blind Master of Hidden Weapons ever since they'd returned from China. The young Saotome didn't know why Mousse's aggression towards him was significantly decreased, but he guessed that it had something to do with the fact that he had destroyed Saffron in battle. The wedding could have done nothing but help with that new line of thinking. Even someone as blindly obsessed with Shampoo as Mousse was couldn't have blatantly ignored the fact that Ranma had been willing to marry Akane.

Thankfully, Ryouga himself had been scarce for a long while now. Ranma suspected that Akari had something to do with that, and he was grateful for that. In the past, Ryouga was one of his biggest problems, and his P-chan identity had greatly complicated Ranma's uneasy relationship with Akane. "Thank Kami-sama for small favors," he muttered, and gave a quick nod to the heavens, just in case Kami-sama himself was watching him at that moment.

As if to make up for Mousse's peace and Ryouga's absence, Tatewaki and Kodachi Kunou had stepped up their efforts greatly in order to "smite/slay the horrible/horrid cursed Saotome/pig-tailed wench and earn the affection of the pig-tailed goddess/the manly Ranma Saotome." It seemed that every time he was male, Tatewaki would be attacking him at school and Kodachi would be throwing herself at him. When he became female, then the opposite would occur. To Ranma, it was grating heavily on his already frayed nerves and he was sorely tempted to dish out some much needed payback. Oh, he'd resisted (admirably, in his own humble opinion), but the urge to beat both Kunos into next week was almost more than he could stand.

Even though he didn't hit girls, he was thinking that he would have to make an exception for Kodachi. That laugh of hers didn't even sound ladylike, it chilled him to the bone no matter how many times he heard it. In fact, it didn't even sound remotely human, so Ranma was halfway to thinking that maybe slapping her down for a while would be doing a service for humanity, however brief. Still, Ranma would only knock her out as an extreme last resort; he understood that she wasn't all that mentally stable. Kind of like her brother, she had the uncanny ability to warp reality and make it fit into whatever delusion she desired at the moment.

With her brother, Ranma didn't have any qualms about hurting him. It was just that the damned idiot was so stubborn and had an impressive capacity for punishment. Ranma would knock him down, and a minute later the older boy would be up, spouting passages in his pseudo-Shakespearean speech about how he would free the pig-tailed goddess from the black-hearted magic of Ranma Saotome.

As for his pal, the one he thought he could trust, Ranma didn't know what he would do. Although he was angry at Ukyou for aiding in the disruption of his wedding, he also could not, in good faith, blame her, for he could see things from her angle. Ranma was lost; he had no idea even where to begin to handle this situation. He'd have to think about it more; maybe he would ask Dr. Tofu for advice.

He sighed. Ranma was quite certain now that he didn't want the situation as it was to continue forever. Before the battle with Saffron, he would have just went on and blamed his curse for all of his troubles, but now Ranma saw that line of thought was stupid. Not only did blaming the curse do anything for his troubles, but it was a complete waste of time.

Now, instead of lamenting about the past, Ranma was now thinking about how to change his future for the better. He cringed inwardly as he reviewed his actions earlier that year in which he had done in order to try and get a quick fix for his cure. He shook his head, almost not believing all the unnecessary trouble that had resulted. While Ranma was still not fond of his curse, he came to the conclusion that if he had just thought to look ahead, even a little, back then, more than half those troubles would have been easily avoided.

All this time, his key to victory in his fights was being able to successfully adapt and counter his enemy's fighting style, whatever it was. Now, he had an idea to apply that said adaptability not only in battle, but in life as well. His innate stubbornness made it quite difficult to admit that he was wrong, that he needed improvement in anything besides martial arts. But with his new perspective, Ranma was determined to not make the same mistakes again.

'Amazing how causing death first hand could change a person's life,' he thought.

To put it plain, Ranma was sick and tired of people demanding that they knew better than him on how he should live his life. His resentment was building, bit by bit, every time someone attacked him out of the blue, every time someone tried to force their feelings on him, and every time someone tried to make him do things he felt he wasn't ready for. For the past three weeks, he'd been thinking on this; now he was ready to start acting on it.

"I'm through with this. No one's gonna force me do anything I don't wanna do. I'm sick and tired of taking all this crap everyone shoves off onto me. I ain't gonna continue to be a scapegoat and a prize to win. From now on, starting this very second, Ranma Saotome is a new man," he declared, feeling better for saying it out loud.

His current line of thought was interrupted by a annoyed sounding female voice shouting his name from below.

"Ranma, get your butt down here! And I mean now, you jerk!"

"Saotome," he addressed himself, "looks like you've got a chance to start practicing that new line of yours right away."

On impulse, he jumped to feet and shouted aloud, "Stronger than a maddened gorilla, faster than a moving snail, able to jump to conclusions at a single glance!" Ranma looked down into the Tendo's front yard at his irate fiancée and pointed straight at her as he continued, "It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Akane Tendo!" 'Hehe, call me a jerk for no reason, will you?'

It seemed that his new resolution would face its first challenge in the form of Akane Tendo's legendary temper.

Predictably, the irate girl got even more irate as a furious scowl dressed her face. "Baka!" she spat, "What idiotic nonsense are you babbling about now?"

"Nothin' that you'd understand," Ranma quipped.

Her eyes smoldered; her fists clenched. All that anger really made her more uncute, Ranma decided. Then he said, "Hey Akane, don't take it so seriously! I was just joking with you, so relax!"

Akane, he decided, wasn't showing any signs of lowering her temper. Ranma had known that she wouldn't listen to anything else he would say; he knew her well that when she was in a mood like this, Akane would only focus only on his insults. It was rare that she would pay attention to any of his attempted apologies or 'takebacks'. Knowing exactly what would happen in the next few seconds, instead of trying to run away, Ranma took the exact opposite course.

He hopped down from the roof and landed a few feet away from the angry girl, whose next words were, "Are you calling me stupid?"

Mindful of her proximity, Ranma folded his hands behind his back and exuded an apparent air of careless indifference. Glancing at her, he asked, "Did you call me a jerk just a minute ago?" Which wasn't really a question, but the pigtailed boy carefully watched for the expected reaction.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Ranma no baka!" Mallet-sama appeared with a blazing flourish in her waiting hands as Akane wound up to take her wrath out on a very deserving (in her opinion) Ranma.

Within the two seconds that it took her to get within striking range, a multitude of thoughts rampaged through his mind. Akane seemed to be charging forward in slow motion as Ranma's lightning quick mind tried to hatch a viable answer to the upcoming conflict.

It had been a painful and frustrating experience every time Akane had struck him with her damn mallet, and he couldn't return the favor because of his personal beliefs as a martial artist. Needless to say, there had been a few times when he'd desperately wanted the chance to get revenge on Akane for her impunity of hitting him at will.

Then a sudden thought struck him. 'Wait', he asked himself, 'don't I usually dodge Kunou's bokken, Mousse's weapons, and Ryouga's umbrella and bandannas? If that's so, why couldn't I dodge this mallet like I did their attacks? What's the difference between them and her?'

His answer was almost reflexive, and Ranma could practically hear his father's voice in it. 'Because she's a girl, and your fiancée. She's practically your wife, and was almost three weeks ago. If she hits you, then it's probably because you deserve it. She's right and you're probably wrong. Just take your punishment like a man, and that'll be it.'

With his usual stubbornness strengthened and given new direction by his recently voiced resolution, Ranma worked out an answer to that.

'Bullshit, that's just plain bullshit. I don't deserve to be hit now, because I didn't do nothing to her. Sure I teased her, but she called me a jerk first without me doing anything to her! And she won't even say that she did! Fiancée or not, I'm sick of being pounded on for something so small. It's like she uses the tiniest thing as an excuse to pull out that damn overgrown hammer and whack me with it. Well, I'm sick of that, and I'm sick of her doing that, and I'm gonna do something about it!'

He quickly ran through his options. Well, he still couldn't get back at her physically, but just what if he didn't let himself get hit at all? Maybe if he avoided the mallet completely until Akane ran out of juice?

'Hey, that sounds pretty good! I'll give it a try,' he thought.

Time resumed its normal pace as Akane swung, aiming for his head.

Ranma, two months ago, would've tripped over his own two feet in his haste to get away, and gotten painfully smacked in the air for it.

Today's Ranma, however, narrowed his eyes and smoothly ducked the swing that was aimed at his head. Before Akane could recover, he jumped over her and landed several feet behind her.

When the expected impact didn't happen, Akane found herself in a dizzying, brief spin and collapsed to the ground, her world a revolving blur.

The unthinkable had finally happened.

Ranma idly wondered for a second if they were enjoying the sudden snow down there.

He watched silently as Akane slowly got up, taking the time for her dizziness to dissipate. She turned around and saw him there, free of any of the usual marks that spoke of forceful impacts with a certain oversized hammer. Confusion, rage, and astonishment fought for supremacy as she struggled to come to grips with the fact that she had completely failed in hitting him. That wasn't supposed to happen!

Noting the interesting array of emotions running across her face, Ranma said, "I've decided to stop being your personal punching bag anymore, Akane. I gotta warn you, starting today, I'm not gonna let you hit on me whenever you feel like it, whether I've deserved it or not. How 'bout we talk it over?"

Quickly shaking off the last of her disorientation, Akane's wrath surged anew. Ignoring Ranma's suggestion, she pushed aside the confusion and shock, summoned her trusty mallet yet again, and charged.

Ranma remained silent, but he put on his best arrogant grin on his face. Akane saw that irritatingly familiar smirk, and it goaded her to push the attack. She instantly made it her mission right there and then to wipe that most hated of expressions off his face anyway she could. So with great resolve, sheer contempt and anger for a certain Saotome family member, she swung her mallet with righteous fury.

With such enthusiasm and determination, it was a real shame that she missed. And missed. And missed again. With every miss, her frustration and anger increased.

Never changing his expression, Ranma twisted and turned his body, ever so slightly dodging each mallet strike. He turned the attacks into such close misses that each time that mallet swung by, he felt the brush of air as it gently caressed his body. Sometimes the oversized hammer itself would make brief contact with his silk shirt, but not once did it ever hit his body.

Her frustration grew as she kept swinging and kept missing. It fed her anger and increased it until her self-control (or what little remained of it) completely evaporated. Everything else blurred into the background; the only thing she could see was that arrogant jerk in front of her. Summoning all of her anger, she raised her mallet for another attempt. "Die Ranma!"

He promptly responded by pulling down his eyelid with his index finger and sticking his tongue out.

"Arrrrgghhhh!!"

The futile assault continued. Ranma was quite surprised at himself for the ease he was avoiding the attacks. It was a mystery to him; how was he doing this so easily when just two months ago any of Akane's attempts would unerringly strike on target? Why was he able to dodge as successfully as he was doing right now? Why was it so easy, when it had been practically impossible before? Was it all because of that new resolution he made? Ranma found no quick answers to his questions as he was forced to pay a minimum amount of attention to his evasive maneuvering.

After a good five minutes, Akane finally ran out of energy and she stopped swinging her weapon. Her exhaustion and weariness had finally replaced all of the anger within her and, without the anger to fuel the mallet, it dissipated. She stood a few feet away from Ranma, hands on her knees, hunched over trying to get her breath back.

"Oh good, you're finally done. It's about time. Well, later 'Kane, I've got something important to do. See ya!"

With that, Ranma jumped onto the roof, grinning wickedly to himself. Ignoring the stream of vocal wrath from below, the pig-tailed teenager engaged in an abrupt session of roof-hopping. As he did this, he though back over to what had transpired. Upon reflection, his idea had worked out perfectly. He wasn't hurt, Akane wasn't hurt, and she was now too tired to try and exact further 'vengeance' on him. Hmm, maybe not that perfectly because doubtlessly later on she would take umbrage at him for his unusual, though flawless, defense.

But at least he had avoided getting malleted, which was a definite improvement on the usual ending of such matters. As Ranma reflected upon his next move, a sudden barrage of questions made themselves to him known in midair.

It was time to start getting answers to those questions. It was time to start planning. By tomorrow he would be ready to begin changing his life for the better.

Now, where was a good place to do so?

* * *

Akane Tendo was at a complete loss for words. She'd been pissed off at Ranma before, and some of the stunts he did had left her in absolute disbelief, but this was different. 

This took the cake.

She would have never thought of Ranma being able to evade her mallet, let alone escape her without being hit once. It was such an alien concept that when her emotions were spent, her thoughts went in circles of denial and disbelief of something like 'I don't believe…impossible, can't be…he got away…missed…I don't believe…impossible, how could he…'

Akane thought she knew him pretty well, better than the other girls who chased him. Such was the case that it was quite understandable that she was completely thrown for a loop, and more.

So like a statue placed at the middle of the Tendo front yard, she stood there in shock, her mouth agape, her shoulders hunched.

Nabiki casually strolled out of the house and regarded her unmoving sister. Flicking her eyes to her wristwatch, she quickly noted that Akane had been standing there for an hour.

Shaking her head, she turned and walked back inside, muttering "Just this once, I don't want to know."

* * *

Ranma was at the park, having arrived there hours earlier. He'd avoided being seen by the other Nerima martial artists by using the Umi-sen-ken. Here only a few other people, mostly young couples and a peace officer, whom Ranma was familiar with, named Ken Takuki, were evident. That was fine with him; the less people, the less chances of being bothered. He'd come here in need of a quiet place to plan and strategize his 'master plan'. 

Predictability. Routine. Old habits.

All of these were his greatest enemy, Ranma decided. Unlike in a fight, where his prime advantage was his adaptability, his actions and reactions were predictable in his day to day living. Several people took advantage by preying on those. He frowned, remembering more…

Cologne and Shampoo, offering him a 'quick fix' for his curse in order to try and secure him as Shampoo's husband…

Nabiki trapping him into her schemes by challenging him and by playing on his stubbornness…

Akane, fiercely pounding on him on a whim, taking advantage of his utter reluctance to fight back physically…

Ryouga, playing on Ranma's sense of honor by sleeping with Akane as P-chan…

Genma, purposely engaging him to other girls for selfish reasons and expecting him only to honor one engagement.

Tatewaki and Kodachi Kunou, pursuing both of his forms for their own lustful purposes…

Ranma was getting angry, incredibly angry. In fact, the last time he could remember being this mad was when Mikado kissed him when he was in girl form.

Several minutes passed. With some effort, and by using the Soul of Ice, he pushed it down. Right now he needed a clear head unclouded by any sort of emotion if his plan was to work. Chewing his lip, he descended into deep thought. After nearly half an hour of intense mental work, he came up with something promising.

"Well, if everyone wins by using me and my predictability to get what they want from me, then I'll stop offering them such obvious leverage. Before I start attacking, first I'd better strengthen my weaknesses as best I can."

Ranma frowned again. He wasn't fooling himself; he'd made a mental listing of what he thought of as his 'usual habits'. Such a list tallied many items, and to change them would be very difficult and could turn out to be impossible on his part.

Then his grimace transformed into a small, yet genuine smile. A burst of sudden laughter escaped from his lips and he chided himself. How could changing his habits be any difficult than what he had experienced and overcome in the past year? Every obstacle and challenge that had been thrown at him, he had faced head-on and triumphed over. It would be no different this time.

"I am Ranma Saotome," he declared to the open night, "and I won't lose!" Ignoring the startled looks and whisperings of the other park visitors, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up into the darkened sky.

"And the game is on," Ranma whispered, his eyes gleaming with determination.

End Chapter 1

Author's Notes:

Well, due to being sick for nearly a week really cut down on my writing. Also, a sudden hard drive crash absolutely didn't help at all. Thankfully, a partial copy was on hand via diskette, and I just rewrote everything from there on up. Lesson learned, now I'm backing my work on cd-rws now.

Hope you enjoyed it. Cya next time in Chapter 2 as Ranma puts his 'master plan' into action. C&C will be much appreciated. Thanks!


	3. Crossing the Line Chapter 1 Part 2

Disclaimer:

I hold no claim of ownership over the Japanese anime known as Ranma ½ nor the American cartoon known as G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero.

Timeline:

G.I. Joe is around five months before the events in G.I. Joe the Movie. It has been a year and a half ever since the episodes of Arise Serpentor Arise took place.

Ranma ½ is three weeks after Ranma's battle with Saffron.

The year is 1987

A G.I. Joe/Ranma ½ Crossover

Crossing the Line

By Darksoar

Chapter 1

Revelations and transitions

Part two

Akane was sitting down on the couch in the living room, eagerly waiting for her fiancee to return home. Though the television was on, her attention wasn't focused on it. At the moment she was entertaining a fantasy concerning her trustworthy mallet and Ranma.

She was smiling in anticipation, and the desire to perform some extreme bodily pain on a certain Saotome could be felt a mile away. The two fathers and her sisters noted the expression on her face and acted accordingly; they kept a safe distance. They all knew who she was waiting for, and were very glad that they weren't the poor unfortunate who Akane would soon unleash her wrath upon.

At this point Ramna's tomboyish fiancee was mumbling to herself, and her fists were tightly clenched. If anyone had come close enough, they would've had heard, "That baka thinks he can get away from me? From me? Well, I'm going to teach him a thing or two. That two-timing, perverted, insensitive playboy is probably out flirting with those other floozies, and if he thinks he can get away with that then I'm personally going ram my mallet right up his!"

Where Akane would ram her mallet up was left to imagination as she suddenly heard someone speaking right outside the front porch. The sliding door was open so the sound traveled to her ears rather easily. As she recognized the voice of the speaker, a hunter's gleam entered her eye.

"Hey, why don't you come inside and have some tea or something? After all, you took the time to come all this way-"

That was all that was said before an eagerly fuming Akane Tendo pounced. She stomped her way towards the front porch, unconsciously holding her two hands in position for summoning her mallet. Upon stepping outside the door, she immediately challenged Ranma in a low, dangerous tone that spoke of violence on the horizon.

"Where did you go this time, Ranma! The Nekohanten! Ucchan's! Kami-sama help me, the Kunou's residence! You ran away to go flirting with those hussies and YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO BRING ONE OF THEM BACK TO THE HOUSE FOR TEA! HOW DARE YOU!" Without further adieu, she called forth Mallet-sama and raised it, about to indulge herself in one of her favorite past times, e.g. Pound the Baka.

Her anger fizzed out, her mallet blinked out of existence, and complete surprise overwhelmed her. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. For the second time in a day, Akane was stunned speechless.

Before her, standing next to Ranma wasn't Shampoo. Nor was it Ukyou or Kodachi or any one she knew. In fact, it was a he. More than that, he was dressed in a local peace officer's uniform. And he was in what Akane recognized as a karate defensive stance, with his eyes tracking her every movement.

Feeling horrified at the prospect of what would have happened if she had not ceased her sudden attack, Akane's mouth wasn't quite in working order. Her mind was of an agreement with her mouth. To put it simply, "……………………………………………………"

Taking some guilty pleasure and satisfaction at Akane's reaction, Ranma managed an adequate solemn face, as well as an equally serious tone of voice as he said, "Takuki-san, allow me to introduce my fiancee, Akane Tendo. 'Kane, this peace officer who you almost struck is Ken Takuki." He paused, then was about to say something else, but thought the better of it.

But he reconsidered it again, wavered, then fell to the temptation. Schooling his face into what he hoped was a serious expression, he turned and faced Officer Takuki.

"Takuki-san, isn't it a crime to try and attack an officer of the law with, um, physical violence?"

Ken glanced at the teenager briefly, then regarded Akane with a hard, no-nonsense glare. "Yes," he stated curtly, "it is quite against the law. Unless, Ms. Tendo, you can give me a satisfactory explanation on why you come barging out of your house like some crazed homicidal psychopath, you should know that such action alone is suitable grounds for taking you down to the precinct and booking you for, as Ranma put it, threatening an officer of the laws with physical violence."

If Akane had been shocked before, now she was totally stupefied beyond simple comprehension. Today had been something else; first Ranma, completely out of the blue, manages to dodge her mallet, and now this. It was too much for her to take. The thought of being booked like a common criminal was the final straw. With that, her eyes rolled back and she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Ken Takuki was dryly amused, and he turned to his companion. "Well, that's a new one. I've never had someone faint after I tell them of the possibility of going down to the precinct.

Still feeling guilty as well as whole lot of surprise, Ranma shook his head. "I didn't expect her to react this way," he muttered to the older man. "I guess I'd better take her upstairs to her room before someone notices and all hell breaks loose."

He walked inside and quickly looked around. From the sound of it, Kasumi was doing some late cleaning in the kitchen. Nabiki was nowhere to be seen, thank goodness, and the two fathers attention was focused on their usual game of shogi. A rare stroke of good fortune!

Gently picking up Akane's unconscious body, he nodded to Ken. "Takuki-san, please wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes." After receiving a nod from the peace officer, Ranma readied himself. Now he would have to depend on his speed and hope for the best.

Taking a deep breath, Ranma darted rapidly, yet soundlessly through the open entrance, past the kitchen, past the two older men, and leapt up the stairs in a single jump. Snapping a quick look into the second floor hallway, Ranma was glad to see no one in view. He stealthily made his way to Akane's door and opened it. Slipping inside, he gently closed the door; thanks to his intimate knowledge of her room, he could successfully navigate it in the dark.

The young martial artist laid down his burden and turned to go, feeling that he had stretched his luck as far as he dared. Ranma didn't want to think about what Akane would've done if she had suddenly regained consciousness during his sprint down stairs. Before leaving her room, he paused and looked at her.

Throughout the entire Jusendo escapade to the failed wedding, Ranma's feelings and emotions concerning a certain uncute tomboy had gone through several major upheavals. He had been pretty certain that he loved Akane; his reaction to her apparent death had shown him the truth. Truth to tell, he'd been willing to get married to her if she was willing to get married to him.

Unfortunately, she'd seen fit to place all the blame on him for the wrecking of the wedding; she'd jumped to conclusions and believed that he had setup the whole thing with Nabiki's help. That was when their relationship took a turn for the worst. With her stubbornness, anger, and hate driving her, Akane's attitude eventually regressed to the point where it mirrored that of the early days when she and Ranma were little more than strangers. Basically, she didn't trust him at all and seemed to eagerly seize any chance, however minor, to hit him. His unprofessed love for her had taken an incredible beating, perhaps never to recover fully again. Not that Akane gave it a chance to revive, that is.

It seemed that her attitude became worse every day. Now, Ranma was determined to put a stop to it before it was too late. He'd been through hell, practically, heck, he'd even KILLED FOR HER and she didn't even seem to take that into consideration.

Shaking his head, Ranma took one last glance at his fiancee's face and quietly said, "I'm sorry about this, Akane, but you're blaming me for something I had no part in. I wish the situation could be different, but it's not. The fact is I won't follow the same rules that you're used to me going by. Good night, and I hope you realize that before you get hurt."

Ranma doubted that Akane would come to her senses about the truth of his "wedding plot" and dubbed it 'wishful thinking' if she would. He quietly slipped out of her room, silently closed the door, and made his way down the stairs.

Ranma walked towards the front porch,

trying to look casual. Unfortunately he was no actor. If anyone had been paying sufficient attention, they definitely would've noticed it. But luckily Kasumi remained busy in the kitchen and Genma and Soun were still deeply engaged in their game. It had been a clean, successful operation.

Ken was patiently waiting for him outside. Ranma nodded towards the open gate and the two of them headed there. Once out of hearing range of anyone in the Tendo house (hey, can't be too careful), Ranma began, "Takuki-san, thanks a lot for walking with me from the park. You just saved me a lot of trouble with my fiancee."

The peace officer cocked his head to the left and said, "Saving you trouble? What are you talking about? I was just doing my duty; it was a simple case. She came at me with harmful intent and I warned her about the lawful consequences."

"I see," Ranma said, managing a straight face. He knew Ken was not stating the real reason why, but it didn't matter to him.

"Well, anyways, at least I didn't have an entirely boring night. I want to ask you a question that just occurred to me. Aren't you an extraordinarily skilled martial artist?"

Ranma beamed at the praise. "Of course! From what I've seen, I'm the best martial artist of my generation!" Every now and then, his ego had to come out for some serious stroking.

"Then please explain to me why do you allow a considerably lesser skilled person like Akane to smack you around like you were some sort of rag doll?"

At first, the teenager was reluctant to answer.

Then he sighed wearily, as a heavy burden was placed on his shoulders. "It's a long story, a very long story which you probably wouldn't believe, and I'm not really sure how I should tell it."

Ken scrutinized him with an experienced eye. He had a general idea of what happened in Ranma's everyday life and he knew that the younger boy rarely had a moment of peace. Ken had seen him fight other highly skilled martial artists. Being a martial arts practitioner himself, he knew he was simply outclassed when it came to Ranma and his ilk. Despite the amount of property damage done, Ken was sharp enough to realize that there was no real need to try and apprehend the martial artists. For one, it was rare that innocent bystanders got hurt, and two, a person would have to be suicidal to get between a pair of almost superhumaningly strong combatants. Takuki was devoted to his job, but he preferred to avoid the emergency room if possible.

The peace officer had come to know Ranma pretty well, enough to know that it was near impossible for the teenager to lie. From what Ken had observed, it seemed to go against Ranma's nature to even try and do so. As Ken studied Ranma's eyes, he detected no trace of falsehood; from what he saw in there, it seemed that Ranma was finally trying to come to grips with his life. His eyes spoke of an age-old weariness, of inner pain, bitterness, and torment, and of anger. But Ken had also seen great determination and unshakable resolve. It gave him hope for this young man whom life had stacked all the cards against.

Ken nodded to him. "Okay, but remember, if you ever have to talk to anyone, you know where to find me. I'll be willing to lend an open ear and maybe some advice."

Never had Ranma been given such an offer that was completely free of price tags or conditions. It was, simply put, a foreign concept for him that it was all he could do just to nod dumbly in response.

Barely suppressing an amused grin at Ranma's slack jawed expression, Ken patted him on the back and started off down the street. "Till next time, Ranma," he called over his shoulder.

Ranma automatically bowed and said, "See you later, Takuki-san." As he watched the older man's figure grow smaller, he couldn't help but wonder about something that had been bothering him for a while.

Could it be Ken Takuki was a true…friend to him?

Was it even possible? If it was, then it was a novelty for him.

He sighed. Yet another thing to think about, he decided, and turned to walk inside.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

* * *

Early the next morning, a lone individual was at the park, wearing only long, black silk pants and he was barefoot.

Although he'd not experienced a nightmare the night before, which was rare, Ranma had a lot on his mind. He still had yet to come to peace with Saffron's death; in addition to that, he was just embarking on a journey of self improvement. There were many things to focus on, and the turmoil of guilt on his soul didn't make it any easier.

To help, he was practicing the art of Tai Chi. The cool wind rustled through his air; the short, cut grass crinkled under his bare feet; the morning sun warmed him pleasantly.

Ranma Saotome felt alive this particular morning.

Breathing in and out smoothly and regularly, the youth considered the routine he was about to do. It was simplistic and easy; it was also ideal for Ranma to help dissolve several days worth of stress.

Around nine years ago, Genma had brought Ranma to a JDSF military base in Hiroshima. Ranma's father had heard that there were several men there who were also skilled martial artists and wanted to see if they could give him a good match. After Genma easily defeated local self defense instructor, he'd been asked by the commanding officer if he wouldn't mind staying for a few days and show his men a thing or two.

Of course, Genma being Genma, master of opportunism that he was, immediately agreed to it. The two Saotomes were given a room to stay and were allowed to eat with the rest of the soldiers in the mess hall. The next couple of days passed by with Genma teaching the soldiers, sparring (and learning) with those skilled martial artists, and enjoying the free board and room in the meanwhile. With much free time on his hands, Ranma had taken to wandering around the base, seeing everything with an enthusiam only a eight year old could possess.

Ranma had met an American military officer he dimly remembered as "Hoser-san" during the two weeks he and his father were there. With Genma busy most of the time, the youngster took an immediate liking to Hoser-san, and, in the following days, spent a good amount of time with him. Eventually, the odd pair began sharing; Hoser-san had shown Ranma some of the Tai Chi Chuan he knew and in return, the boy demonstrated some of the basic tenets of Anything Goes.

Fortunately, Genma had been sleeping off the effects of some booze he had purloined somewhere the night before, else he would frothing mad at his son revealing his family's art, to a gaijin, no less!

The tranquility in movement and relaxation of the mind inherent in Tai Chi helped by easing his tension. He only focused on the practice itself; having earlier sorted and prioritized amongst the various issues he was facing. In doing that, he had come to see that by dealing with the smaller, immediate issues, the difficulty in facing the larger ones lying in the background would be greatly decreased.

The realization did much to encourage him; for in truth, at times, Ranma had felt that he was going up against an almost impossible goal. But it wasn't in him to quit so easily, even if the odds were against him one hundred percent. No, he would go through this with all of his strength, skill, and every ounce of willpower he had. He meant for today to be a very important and meaningful milestone in his quest for betterment of self. Ranma took the events of last night to be a positive sign; everything had turned out to be more successful than he had thought.

Today would be a day of changes and surprises, for everyone, for him. He'd already gotten a good start by waking up earlier than even Kasumi usually did. He imagined Genma's reaction, with a good amount of amusement, when his son would not be present for their daily morning spar. And how would Akane behave like today after those multiple shocks to the system the day before?

As Ranma finished the closing form, he looked directly ahead, closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. When he was done, Ranma slowly opened his eyes and went to collect his shirt and slippers.

It was time.

* * *

7:15 am.

The students who were usually among the first ones to arrive at Furinkan High were startled to see someone who was usually late. It caused them to do several double takes in order to verify to see if they identified the person correctly at first sight.

They had. It was, without a doubt, the foremost trouble-making student ever to set foot in Furinkan High School, Mr. Chaos Endowed himself, Ranma Saotome.

He was wearing his usual outfit; red Chinese silk shirt with sleeves rolled up, black silk pants, and black slippers. However, if the martial artist was aware of the glances, he didn't show it. In fact, he leaned backwards against the Furinkan front gate, staring down at the ground with arms crossed over his chest. There was a subtle, yet definite I-don't-want-to-be-bothered air about him that discouraged anyone from approaching too close. Even his friends Hiroshi and Daisuke received the message and kept their distance. But as friends should be, they were a little concerned about his unusual behavior and stayed within hearing range.

If a poll had been taken right there, it would have been shown that a good number of the students had a feeling that something…different was going to happen today. And the more perceptive ones would've quickly intuited that Ranma would be the cause for it.

With all the speculation going on, Nabiki walked intently towards her sister's fiancee. People noticed her mood and quickly made way for her, towards her sister's fiancee. Nabiki wanted answers now. Earlier in the morning, Akane had utterly refused to exit her room, claiming that she was feeling sick and had a headache. This revelation had Soun going full blast with his tearing routine and nearly snapped the phone cord as he frantically dialed Dr. Tofu for advice. Kasumi, rolling her eyes at her father's ridiculous antics, went up to see Akane.

Besides Akane being suddenly sick, the other odd thing to happen in the morning was that Ranma turned up missing. Genma said that when he woke up, he had discovered his son's absence, but he didn't know where he had gone.

Immediately, Nabiki's well oiled mind started running. There was an obvious connection between Akane getting sick and Ranma's absence. She was worried about Akane and wanted to find out what Ranma knew, no matter if he was the cause or not. However, Nabiki did not have enough time to question Akane, as Kasumi was already there. Reluctantly, she had eaten, showered, and left for school.

Now, the Ice Queen of Furinkan strode towards Ranma's solitary figure in her best no-nonsense mode. When she was this way, hardly anyone had refused any request that she had asked of them. Perceptive as she was, Nabiki immediately picked up on his quiet and serious demeanor. 'I bet it'll take me less than thirty seconds to crack through that," she thought, smirking.

Stopping to just two feet away from her quarry, Nabiki cleared her throat to get Ranma's attention.

There was no response.

She cleared it again, louder this time. 'Strange, he's usually aware of his surroundings. He'll probably come out of whatever weird martial arts meditation he's in and jump ten feet in the air and say something like "Nabiki, where'd you come from?'.

She was proved wrong. There wasn't even a twitch from the martial artist, not a single acknowledgement of her presence. He might have been carved out of rock.

Nabiki wasn't exactly flustered, but now she was getting a bit annoyed. Ranma had never ignored her successfully for this long before. Time to resort to audio. "Ranma," she snapped in a sharp, accusing tone that emphatically demanded an immediate, direct answer, "do you know why Akane was sick this morning?"

Her sister's fiancee was as cooperative as a statue. When a couple of seconds passed, and he still hadn't answered, the older girl was about to step up to the next level of interrogation. But before she could do so, Ranma unexpectedly broke his silence.

Still gazing down at the ground, Ranma replied calmly, "She's not sick, Nabiki."

The Ice Queen considered a moment before replying; the words were consistent with Ranma's behavior pattern, i.e. he was already denying early in the conversation, but his tone wasn't. Instead of being indignant and defensive, Ranma was the total opposite; cool and collected. Something wrong with this picture and Nabiki had to find out what it was.

Taking her time to respond to that outrageous claim, Nabiki affected a disbelieving air. "Not sick? So why is it that she's not coming to school today and Kasumi is nursing her in her room?"

"She just thinks she's sick."

"You will forgive me if I don't buy that line, Saotome," she commented sarcastically, "and I know that you are responsible for her current condition. I don't care how, why, or what. All I care about is that you'd better give me a good answer, one that I like." She didn't say 'or else', but she knew Ranma knew she implied it.

Nabiki was surprised when she heard his answer. "Well, hearing it from you, Akane sounds really sick. You know, instead of asking me all these questions, you could be taking her to the hospital."

The middle Tendo sister narrowed her eyes, her mind racing. This was not good; Ranma was unexpectedly giving her a successful runabout, and the longer he did that the more her control of the conversation deteriorated. She couldn't figure it out, but Ranma was definitely not himself today, for lack of a better term. In fact, Nabiki could swear that it seemed that the martial artist was thinking before speaking. She had thought it unlikely, perhaps even impossible, but she suspected that Ranma was deliberately trying to annoy her. One thing was certain; this wasn't normal behavior for him.

Maintaining her cool demeanor while encountering an unpredictable Ranma took some effort, but she managed it. Mentally switching gears, she admitted, "Okay, it's not that serious. I'm just concerned about her; I mean, Akane's never been sick in the morning. I just want to know what happened to her. I have a very good feeling that you're involved somehow; Uncle Genma woke up this morning to find you gone. You weren't anywhere in the house. Why is that, hmmm? You have to say that it looks very suspicious, on your part."

Nabiki was certain she had Ranma where she wanted him. Now she felt confident that his façade would crack wide open and he would start babbling out denials.

However, with such expectations, Nabiki nearly facefaulted as Ranma did the last thing she expected; he started chuckling and for no apparent reason that she could see.

Raising her eyebrows in confusion, the Ice Queen wondered what on Earth was Ranma's game today. She didn't like it; she preferred a more controllable, predictable Ranma than the one she was currently trying to fathom, without much success.

What the hell was going on here? Did she suddenly step into the Twilight Zone or something?

Ignoring the startled looks from the other students, she regained enough of her composure to ask him in an irritated tone, "What's so funny, Ranma?" The Ice Queen found the thought of her somehow missing something that Ranma had caught onto very disturbing. If anything else, Nabiki hated being left in the dark.

Winding down on his brief spurt of mild laughter, Ranma finally looked up and for the first time, she saw his expression clearly. As their eyes met, upon seeing the sudden intensity and incredible determination of his stare, Nabiki inwardly flinched. But her pride didn't allow her to look away. Hell, with so many witnesses around, she had a reputation to protect, dammit, and her backing down from Ranma would seriously undermine, if not destroy, it.

So she squared her shoulders and met his gaze head on.

Ranma was the first to speak. In a clear, crisp condescending tone he said "You don't get it, do you, Nabiki? Hell, I don't think anyone gets it. But I thought if anyone would get it, it'd be you. But, unfortunately, you see, you're part of it as well. It's hard to see something for what it really is when you're inside."

"It? What are you talking about Ranma? You're not making any sense." Nabiki didn't show it, but she was getting more irritated by the moment.

Continuing as if she hadn't spoken, Ranma firmly stated, "I find it funny how Akane became sick. I find it funny how everyone reacts when she became sick. I find it funny how everyone automatically assumes that it's my fault that she's sick." His voice hardened, turning bitter and angry, as if long dormant emotions were breaking through. But, aware that he was losing control, Ranma paused a moment. He forced the majority of his emotions into a dark hole somewhere and sealed it tight.

He continued in a more restrained manner, "I find it funny that for the longest time, I was surrounded, and still am in some instances, by block headed idiots like my father, Kunou, Mousse, Ryouga, Kodachi, and Shampoo! I find it funny that they piled all their garbage, all their troubles, all their fantasies and dreams right onto my lap. MY LAP!" he emphasized in a louder voice. "As if I don't have enough problems with my curse, with cats, with fiancees popping out of the woodwork," he spat, saying the word as if it were a curse.

Now speaking with more heat and passion, but still held for the most part in check, Ranma continued, "I didn't ask for any of this, hell, I didn't ask to be engaged to anyone! Not to Ukyou, not to Akane, not to Shampoo! Although I'll admit I do share a little of the fault in both Ukyou and Shampoo's case, I sure as hell didn't have anything to do with my engagement to that tomboy! And she's the one who hits me the most times with that damned mallet of hers every time she gets angry!" At this point, Nabiki could read in his face that despite his control, his emotions were struggling to resurface.

"Fine, I'll tell you want you so desperately want to know! You want the reason behind your little sister's so called sickness? It's like what I told you; Akane isn't sick. She's in shock, fully and completely. The reason why is because she experienced something that totally defied her expectations and she wasn't able to bear it. That's what's wrong with her."

"I've got a feeling that I'll be saying this a lot during the next couple of days. I guess this means you're going to be the first to hear it: I've had enough, do you hear me?"

Nabiki was about to ask another question, but Ranma overrode her. He wasn't planning on stopping for anything. Hell, even if the Prime Minister himself was present, Ranma was going to speak his mind without a trace of doubt.

"I'm tired of being treated like I'm some sort of prize to be won; an object to use and abuse, as anyone sees fit; or someone to be blamed for his or her problems. I'm tired of people running my life and making major decisions on my behalf without my say so. I've had enough of all of IT. So, as of today, I'm drawing the line right HERE, right NOW, and anyone who crosses it, God help me, they will live to regret it a hundred times over. I won't tolerate bullshit that anyone, whoever they may be, thinks he or she can push onto me."

Ranma didn't say anything else. He didn't have to, for his point had been made, clear as a bell. Whether people understood it or not was their problem, he figured. He would be happy to 'help clear' things up for them. By what he saw, Nabiki had been temporarily struck dumb by his declaration and was now staring at him as if he suddenly grew another head.

Despite her reaction, Ranma knew that she would soon recover from her shock. He also knew, without a doubt, that she would soon try and squeeze an advantage from it for her.

'Let her react; Let her think; let her study. Let her try to make a profit out of this. If I know her at all, I bet she'll come to think that she can use this to try and twist me to her own uses. Just let her try. I'll be ready.'

Although some seventy students were around them, though at a respectful distance, all had heard him. They'd kept their peace, witnessing one of the most unusual dramas they had ever seen in all their time of knowing Ranma Saotome.

And now, as Ranma looked over Nabiki's right shoulder, he saw one of them, a certain individual, who coincidentally fit into his 'master plan'.

The cursed teen grinned, and it wasn't a nice one. Rather, it reminded some of the onlookers of a hungry lion on the hunt.

It was going exactly as he had thought it would. Cocking his head to the left, he regarded Nabiki for a second, "S'cuse me, Nabs, but there's someone I gotta catch. Later."

With that, he simply walked past her as if she didn't exist.

* * *

Tatewaki Kunou was presently daydreaming about his Pig-tailed Goddess™. With his ever present bokken in its sheath, he ignored the rest of his fellow students as he neared Furinkan High's gate. Deep down inside, he carried a small amount of guilt that a scion of the noble House of Kunou would debase himself to entertaining such delusional fantasies, but he could not help himself. For him, she was the epitome of feminine beauty, the perfection of womanly charms. From the first time he had well, come into contact with her, Tatewaki had been hopelessly smitten.

Since then, he had taken it on as his personal quest to endeavor in winning her love. However, as a ancient wise man had once said, the course of true love never did run smooth. Countless were the times he had thrown himself into her passionate embrace, only to be rebuffed, many times. It was true that there were only a few instances when Tatewaki and the Pig-tailed Goddess™ had spent precious time together, but he was absolutely sure that her heart belonged to him and no other.

He was positive, and had evidence to prove his claim, that whenever the fair maiden had rejected his gentlemanly gestures of affection, she did so while under the twisted spell of his none other than his arch rival, Ranma Saotome.

Further contemplation of the subject was rudely interrupted by an irritatingly familiar voice coming from his right.

"Kunou."

If Tatewaki had been more grounded in reality, he would have described the voice akin to a razor sharp katana being unsheathed. If he'd been more perceptive, he would've surely sensed the potential threat behind that voice posed an extreme danger for him. Somewhere in an often ignored portion of his mind, a very small voice that tried valiantly to serve as his common sense screamed at him that an immediate tactical withdrawal was wise. Like every other time, Kunou ignored it with ease.

"State your business, Saotome. I do not wish to waste my morning in idle gossip with you."

"I challenge you to combat. Right now, at the track and field. You win; I release the Pig-tailed Goddess™ and Akane Tendo from my spell over them and I swear I won't ever involve myself in your dealings with them. I win; you swear never to touch the Pig Tailed Goddess ever again or to attack me without first giving an official challenge."

Kuno sniffed contemptously, "You do not have suitable cause to subject a son of the noble Kunou house to such proposals. Fiend, retract thy statement else taste the wrath of Tatewaki Kunou, the esteemed Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!"

Ranma shrugged, completely ignoring the taller boy's suggestion. "Nope. Agree to my terms or else you'll be known as the Yellow Coward of Furinkan High. Everyone," he waved his hand towards their audience, "is waiting to hear your reply, Kunou. Which will it be?"

* * *

As Ranma's challenge rang throughout the air, Nabiki finally regained her senses and blinked her eyes. She was startled when she saw that Ranma wasn't in front of her anymore. That was soon remedied when she heard him speaking in such firm and emphatic tones which Nabiki had never heard from him before.

Turning around, she automatically motioned to her assistants to approach and at the same time, got a handle on what was going on. Ranma was full of surprises today, and Nabiki had the feeling that he was just beginning.

Now that she had a moment to think things over, she felt…, actually she didn't know how she felt. Well, at least she knew that she was confused. Oh yes, and she was still feeling angry from Ranma's casual dismissal of her. Another day she would have taken harsher retribution against Ranma for being so cavalier in dealing with her, but today proved to be an exception. She wasn't just angry and annoyed; her interest was greatly aroused, as well as her curiosity. Questions were rampaging through her mind, and more were being added as she gazed appreciatively upon the muscular form of Ranma as he challenged Kunou.

'Why was Ranma doing this? Who put him up to it? Did he plan this by himself? Is this somehow responsible for Akane being sick? Does daddy and Uncle Genma know of this?'

Unfortunately, the source of those answers to those questions was otherwise occupied at the moment, and Nabiki knew that it wasn't a good idea to interrupt an official challenge. She'd have to settle and question Ranma later. One thing she instinctively knew, however, was that the week was going to be very interesting.

* * *

Silence prevailed.

A hush fell over the gathered group of students as they awaited a response. This was a first. Usually, it was the older boy who initiated the challenge, but today it was the reverse. Which wasn't the least normal, but then again, anything involving Ranma wasn't for that matter.

Tatewaki Kunou's face was a study in pure, unadulterated wrath as he fought to compose himself and also to draw his bokken and cut down the nefarious Saotome where he stood. As much as it nettled him, he was forced to admit that the fiend had made an official and, unfortunately, legible challenge. And in order to protect his honor and not lose face in front of the student body, Tatewaki had only one choice he could make.

Standing straight and tall, the kendoka raised his wooden blade and pointed it directly at his rival. At last in control of his anger, he said but two words.

"Challenge accepted."

"And the terms?" Ranma wasn't taking any chances. He wanted to absolutely make sure that Kunou knew what he was getting into. The pigtailed boy had counted on the rest of the students for serving as invaluable eye witnesses.

Gritting his teeth, Tatewaki quickly considered the terms. He would have liked to raise some protest, but as he went over them, he saw that he stood to gain a lot, should he emerge victorious. And even should he lose, he would still have the voluptuous Akane Tendo to pursue with all his heart. It would be a shame to lose the lovely attentions of the Pig-Tailed Goddess™ though.

Grudgingly, he nodded his acceptance, however reluctant, of the fiend's terms and sheathed his bokken. "Shall we proceed to yon battlefield, rival mine?"

With an inscrutable expression, Ranma replied with unusual equanimity, "Sure."

* * *

Ten minutes later, at Furinkan's track and field, the two rivals stood ten feet from each other, ready to commence the challenge.

Ranma was completely calm, as well as silent. This struck his fellow students as very strange; usually Ranma would be hurling insults at his foe or boasting of his own prowess. The 'Wild Horse' had his reasons for not doing so; he wasn't telling, though.

Although many students had gone to their beginning morning classes, a good number had remained to watch the fight. True to form, Nabiki and her subordinates were working the crowd, taking bets. Since it was proven to be a fact that Kunou would never win a fight against Ranma, the shrewd middle Tendo sister decided to capitalize on something else. Thus, she started the bets going on how many minutes would it take Ranma to beat Tatewaki.

After the last bets had been taken, a dead silence fell upon the spectators. No one moved a muscle, seemingly not wanting to distract either fighter.

Tatewaki Kunou placed his right foot forward and set back his left foot with the heel slightly raised. In one swift motion, he drew his bokken and leveled it above his head and across his shoulder. With that done, he bellowed a battle cry and darted forward.

Ranma saw him coming and dropped into a loose side bow stance. His face showed almost no emotions at all, beyond a calm readiness.

"The vengeance of heaven is slow but sure!" cried Tatewaki as he began closing the distance between them.

A distant part of Ranma's brain wondered exactly where Kunou found the extra air to shout like that while running. The rest of him focused on the approaching battle. That portion told Ranma not to hold back as much, because for this part of his plan to be successful, he had to unleash at least some of his true strength.

When he got within striking range, the kendoka shifted his wooden blade to the right and abruptly slashed across, aiming for Ranma's chest. Not surprisingly, the pigtailed martial artist simply leapt over the slash.

In midair, Ranma gritted his teeth in silent annoyance at Kunou's tirade. Employing his mastery of Anything Goes, he twisted his body to the side and kicked his opponent squarely in the jaw. Momentarily stunned, Tatewaki staggered backwards a step. Upon landing, Ranma immediately dropped into a crouch and did a footsweep, knocking the kendoka's legs out from under him.

Although stunned from the kick to the jaw, Tatewaki, through sheer willpower, forced away the pain and controlled his fall, guiding it into a backroll. Coming quickly into a crouch, the older boy lashed out twice in wide arcs to discourage any further attacks and also to buy him some time to come up with a possible tactic to use against his foe.

It didn't work.

Waiting until the second slash was halfway completed, Ranma moved like the wind, for once utilizing his full speed. He _blurred _forward and appeared only a foot away from Tatewaki. Before the startled older boy could react, the Anything Goes practitioner was already attacking.

The other students winced in sympathy as they saw a completely one sided fight as Ranma simply beat down Kunou relentlessly. They were shocked and more than a little scared by the way he was fighting. The pigtailed boy wasn't throwing insults, fighting near his opponent's level, or following his usual tactics. Instead, they saw a harder, serious, and intensely focused stranger in his place.

A quick left hand chop struck at a single pressure point on Kunou's wrist, forcing him to drop his weapon. In lightning quick motions that were all but invisible, Ranma threw two consecutive right jabs, followed up by a left straight to the chin, barely holding back. Weaponless and hurting from the combination, Kunou was wide open to the triple blow follow up; a savage roundhouse to the rear of the jaw, a left hook to the temple, and a right uppercut. His head was knocked back, and when it resumed its normal position, Ranma wasn't surprised to see that Kunou was still conscious.

He unleashed a left uppercut, this time bending his upper body lower, thus springing up with greater force. Once again, Kunou's head snapped back and Ranma relentlessly continued the assault. With a loud kiai, he stomped forward with his right foot, and worked his fists into a blur, striking the Blue Thunder eight times on his body. Although not at Amaguriken speed, the eyes of the other students only caught the barest of flickers of motion. Two punches for the chest, the solar plexus, the stomach, and the abdomen. Incredibly, despite the blows, Tatewaki managed to stand, though he was unsteady, staggering off balance, and was blinded by the pain for the moment.

Ranma let him sway for a moment and backed up half a step. With another loud kiai, he lashed out with strong, yet lightning quick palm strike to Kunou's chest. The force behind the blow lifted the hapless Blue Thunder off his feet and sent him flying backwards to land heavily several feet away.

When Tatewaki didn't immediately get up, Ranma nodded in grim satisfaction. He went, picked up the dropped bokken, and began purposely walking towards the slightly moving figure.

Upon reaching him, he saw that the Blue Thunder was curled up and alternating between coughing and gasping in big breaths of air. He stopped and stood a foot away from him. Despite his outward calmness, some of the tension had built up from his 'talk' with Nabiki. Now, on the eve of the first step in truly making a difference in his own life, Ranma dispelled that tension and hardened himself. He was still adamant about settling things with Kunou.

After a minute, Tatewaki was able to regain his equilibrium and had recovered his normal breathing rate. Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was the figure of his most hated adversary. Automatically he tried to climb back to his feet, only to realize that the cursed Saotome had stolen his bokken and was pointing it at his throat. Wooden or not, the point was still sharp enough to poke a hole in his throat should Ranma was of a mind to, with sufficient force behind it, of course.

Most of the Kunou family had, to a certain degree, a remarkably deluded mind, but fortunately for Tatewaki, he wasn't as misguided as his sister or his father. To be sure, he was still delusional, had a remarkably quick recovery from injury, and was incredibly stubborn as well. He was all these things, but surprisingly he was not a complete idiot. Kunou knew that he was in a hopeless position, and he had no room to maneuver. So it was that brimming with self righteous indignation, humiliation, and fury, Tatewaki leaned back on his elbows, glaring at Ranma all the while.

"Fool, you dare tempt my ire by thinking to threaten me by my own weapon? Do you not know the danger of do-urrk!"

The Blue Thunder of Furinkan High suddenly found out that it was difficult to talk normally when the tip of a sharp, pointed object, a bokken in this case, dug painfully into his throat.

"Shut up, sempai." That last word was spoken with a grim sarcasm. "I am going to say some things that I want you to hear, and you're not gonna interrupt me. Because if you do, I'm gonna keep poking this wooden stick here in your throat. The more you interrupt me, the more deeper I'll poke. Capeesh?"

"Foul enemy of wom-urrrg!" As always, Kunou was a slow learner to certain things.

"Will you be quiet; or will you force me to rip you a new one?"

"I, the Blue Thund-urrrk! Auurrgh!" True to his word, Ranma pushed the bokken a little bit deeper; as it was, Kunou couldn't speak a word without gagging first. He could barely breathe at this point without adding to the pain. It galled him. But he realized that he had no choice in the matter. And that galled him even more.

For once in all the time Saotome was his rival, Kunou was forced to accept his utter defenseless postion and to submit to the hated underclassman. He was delusional, not suicidal. The Blue Thunder clearly heard the uncompromising tone in Ranma's voice; saw a glint of hardened, cold determination in his eyes. Tatewaki was suddenly doubtful that his rival's threat about 'ripping him a new one' was a mere jest. It seemed to him that Saotome was deadly serious, and a chill swept over him.

Satisfied that Kunou would hold his peace at least for the moment, Ranma eased back on the bokken. Already his sharp eyes could detect the beginnings of a bruise on the Blue Thunder's neck, but he ignored it. With his blood still running hot from the excitement of the fight, Ranma had to force himself to calm down in order to properly finish this business.

"I win," he stated loudly, finally, "and you'll uphold your end of the terms. No arguments, no complaints. Agree as an honorable man would."

There was no immediate reply. Ranma could tell the reason just by looking in Tatewaki's eyes that there was great conflict. Principle Kunou's eldest was stuck between the mighty titans of pride and honor. Before, they worked hand in hand for Tatewaki, even at times he'd ignore one and focused on the other. But now, Ranma had cleverly manipulated circumstances so that there would be unfortunate consequences should Tatewaki decide to do that now.

"I know not what is your objective, Saotome, but-"

"But nothing. And stop trying to stall or change the subject. Will you uphold the agreement we made regarding the terms or will you not?"

When Tatewaki still made no reply, Ranma added, "Everyone's waiting to hear what you have to say, upperclassman." Which was a subtle reminder that Kunou would lose face, big time, should he choose to go back on his word and honor.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the Blue Thunder averted his gaze from Ranma and his demeanor became aloof and detached. Then, in a harsh, grating sort of way, he began speaking.

"I, Tatewaki Kunou, do hereby accept," saying the word 'accept' as if it left a foul taste in his mouth, "my defeat in single, honorable combat against Ranma Saotome. Furthermore, I will accede to the following conditions proposed prior to said combat; I, with all witnesses present, swear never to harry or express my love in regards to the Pig-tailed Goddess™. Additionally, I also swear I shall not assault Ranma Saotome without first conveying an official challenge. Thus I swear all these things effective, on the honor of the noble House of Kunou, as of today!"

Though he didn't show it, Ranma let out a mental sigh of relief. Surprisingly, he did not feel elation to any great extent, though he was pleased that it had worked out as well as it had. The young Saotome had thought that Kunou would be much more resistant than this, but as it was, he gave silent thanks above. Maybe he'd underestimated Kunou's sense of honor and fair play. Or maybe it was that he had controlled the whole affair to work to his advantage all the way. Whichever it was, it was the results that mattered the most.

"Okay then, that's it. Till our next official challenge, Upperclassman Kunou."

Ranma shifted the bokken to his left hand and offered the other to the Blue Thunder. At first, he thought that Kunou wouldn't accept it, but he was mistaken. Hesitantly, with great reluctance, Tatewaki lifted his hand and took it. Pulling the kendoka up effortlessly in one smooth motion, Ranma regarded his rival. He was both surprised and impressed; if their positions were reversed, Ranma wasn't certain he would be able to sufficiently let go of his pride enough to accept the gesture.

One thing was clear to him; behind the visage of a bokken wielding, pseudo Shakespeare and samurai enthusiast, Tatewaki Kunou possessed unexplored depths to his character.

Even to himself.

* * *

A couple of feet away, amidst the group of students who had watched the entire fight, Nabiki stood with her subordinates. Now as she saw Ranma helping Tatewaki up, her 'shock meter', already cracked in some places, shattered totally.

However, she was made of firmer stuff than her younger sister. She did not faint nor did she mentally blank out for an hour or more. However, it was safe to say that later on she would require time to fully assimilate what she'd experienced.

"Now that's something you don't see everyday," she muttered, summing up how everyone felt at the moment.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the day, the news about the morning fight sped throughout Furinkan like wildfire. Although Ranma beating Kunou wasn't anything new, it was how he did it that provoked sufficient interest to be inducted into the rumor grill. Never had anyone seen Ranma attain victory through use of force; and it wasn't just a victory, it was an overwhelming revolutionary turn of events that promised to change everyone's view of the pigtailed martial artist. Not only that, but also the way how Ranma stood up to Nabiki earlier provided extra ammunition for such a promise.

Many who had heard the second set of news were in shock. To nearly the entire school, the idea of standing up and telling off the infamous Ice Queen was completely foreign. Everyone wanted their reputation and social standing to remain preserved; none liked the thought of their secrets being paraded in Furinkan's halls on display for all to see. After all, who did?

Many a student took a perverse pleasure that since there were many firsthand eye witnesses during the confrontations with Nabiki and Tatewaki apiece, the Ice Queen couldn't charge a cent for details. However, it seemed that Nabiki was affected by that scene with Ranma. Her subordinates received her silent message that she wanted to be left alone. No one else dared or wanted to approach her.

Virtually tons of speculation, wild guesses, and their ilk ran amok throughout the grapevine. Heads turned, furtive glances taken, and hushed whispering started wherever Ranma went. Staunchly, he ignored it and continued on with his day. At the same time, he gave off an aura that matched Nabiki's in effect. Hiroshi and Daisuke, being his closest friends in Furinkan, stayed close but kept silent. Although they should've been wary of him because of the brutal way he'd forced Kunou to heed the terms, they instinctively knew that Ranma wasn't a danger to them. They also suspected that there was a lot more to come, and it was mutually agreed between both of them that Ranma wasn't done yet.

"And now, students, please turn to page 45. Now as you see Figure 3-4, the right angle is at 90 degrees, always, without exception." Mr. Yamato, a balding, middle aged Math teacher was currently lecturing on Trigonometry in homeroom 2-A. Considered by most of the students as one of the most boring teachers in all of Furinkan's faculty, it took an effort just to stay awake in class.

Ranma, Hiroshi and Daisuke had the misfortune to be among the unlucky twenty five students in said class. Fortunately, the three friends had seats at the back in the same row, so they were relatively shielded from Mr. Yamato's near sightedness. Surprisingly, Ranma wasn't sleeping, but neither was he paying attention to the lecture. It seemed to his two friends that Ranma had withdrawn into himself; some place where he could block out his surroundings and do some thinking.

Hiroshi and Daisuke thought it was a good thing he'd done that. They weren't sure of otherwise how he might respond to the level of fear being shown of him by their fellow classmates. It was as if everyone else sitting around the trio were afraid that Ranma might suddenly go berserk or something.

Such reactions coming from their classmates really disappointed Hiroshi and Daisuke. The two boys had thought their fellow students and friends were better than that. Perhaps they'd overestimated them.

Thirty minutes before Trigonometry ended, both of them were passing back and forth a single notebook that served as their communications relay. They timed the passing in such a way so that they didn't get caught. By the time, the bell rang, their 'conversation' was a couple of pages long.

Hiroshi: I don't believe these idiots! After all Ranma's done for them, after all he's been through, they decide to turn on him like this!

Daisuke: Hiro, don't be too hard on them. They're just afraid. They've never seen Ranma act like this before and it scares them.

Hiroshi: Scared? Why they should be scared of him? He hasn't done anything to anyone who didn't deserve it and he's always protected, or at least tried to, those weaker than him.

Daisuke: That's true but you gotta remember. They don't know Ranma like the both of us do. As a matter of fact, probably aside from the Tendo family and maybe Ukyou, no one knows Ranma better than us.

Hiroshi: Heh, damn right! Everyone thinks that we just 'hanging on' to Ranma, as if we're trying to grab onto some of that attention for ourselves. Well I'd admit that it was like that when we first got to know him, do you remember those days Dai?

Daisuke: Do I ever! Remember that one time we were bothering him with all sorts of idiotic questions about whether he'd gotten Akane into the sack yet? Remember what happened when he got so distracted by our questioning?

Hiroshi: By either luck, accident, or fate Akane batted a foul ball right into his cheek! Man, my sides were starting to hurt from hiding all that laughter back. And when we found about the existence of the 'Pig Tailed Goddess?

Daisuke: Geez, I forget how many times we asked him to set us up with her! It was a wonder he didn't lose his patience and smack us into next week!

Hiroshi: Yup, those were the times. But we're getting off track here. Ranma's done a lot of dumb things, but I think he's done even more good for the entire school. For example, I can't count the number of times he's chased Happousai out of the girl's locker room, or help return their stolen unmentionables.

Daisuke: A very valid point. It reminds me of something I read in a book about human nature. I forgot the title, but it describes Ranma's situation rather nicely.

Hiroshi: Do tell.

Daisuke: Well, in the book, there was a short story about a king. This king was a good and noble king, making sure his laws were just, making his taxes reasonable, judging cases as fair as he could, having the welfare of his realm in mind, you know, those sort of things. Well, after nearly twenty years of being such an ideal king, he was found out in a scandal involving one high-born lady of the court. And she was married, to boot. Well, to make a long story short, the populace, his subjects, forgot about all the good he'd done for them in a surprisingly short amount of time. They began to call for his dethronement and basically turned their backs on him. Instead of forgiving and forgetting, they started howling for his blood and chased him out of the kingdom. He died of heart break and depression a short time later, a bitter and coldly indifferent man who held little resemblance, save physically, to that of a once great king.

Hiroshi: Nice. I think I see where you're going. It just takes one wrong act to be done in order to transform a person into a criminal in everyone else's eyes. It doesn't matter if his track record was that of a saint, does it?

Daisuke: I'm afraid not, Hiro. And that is kind of what's happening to Ranma. Our classmates, even if they don't like Kunou that much, are shocked. All this time, they've grown used to Ranma acting the way he's been acting all this time. And when out of the blue, he does something unexpectedly like threatening Kunou's life with his bokken (personally I thought it was overdue), it threw them for a loop. They suddenly started thinking if he'd lost it, and were scared of the harm he was capable of with all the skill at his disposal.

Hiroshi: You hit it right on the mark, bud. However, I'm getting kinda tired of their stupid behavior, human or not. Ranma's not a saint or anything, but he's also done a good amount for the school! But look at them! They're treating Ranma as if he had some sort of disease or something! I've got half a mind to walk up and knock some sense into them, right away.

Daisuke: I know how you feel. I'd like to do something among the same lines. But hang on and don't do anything now, all right Hiro? Come lunchtime and we'll talk it over. I'm sure we can think of something that'll help Ranma.

Hiroshi: Okay Dai. But we'd better do something, cuz I'm not sure how long our bud can last with everyone like this. Give a few more days and it'll get to him. Then he'll have a bigger problem on his hands!

* * *

When the lunch bell rang, Hiroshi's patience was just about wasted. This had come about by the constant note passing and head turning by his classmates, all regarding Ranma. This had served to effectively annoy and irritate Hiro, who, after only a few minutes of watching this activity, was ready to start shouting in all their faces to shut up and telling them off. Thankfully, the notebook conversation managed to calm him down sufficiently enough to hold on, as Dai had suggested.

As everyone collected their book and bags, some took this opportunity to take a last glance at Ranma. That was when Hiro and Dai acted like overprotective bodyguards. Hiro glared furiously at them, making a great show of scowling aggressively and gritting his teeth together. Dai simply affected a small frown, a look of obvious disdain, and a cool, challenging look in his eyes.

Feeling uncomfortable at being caught staring, their classmates hastily left the room, leaving Hiro, Dai, and Ranma, who was still in deep thought. Shaking his head in disgust at the attitudes of some people, Hiro stood up and went to his pigtailed friend.

"Ranma, class's over. It's time for lunch." he placed a concerned hand on Ranma's left shoulder and shook him gently. If his classmates had seen him do that, they would've probably tried to stop him. However, Hiroshi was firmly convinced that Ranma, no matter what happened, would not hurt or threaten him of his own will.

His faith was affirmed when the young martial artist blinked once, coming out of his introspection, and stood up. Looking around, Ranma saw that the room was empty of people save for the three of them. Scratching the base of his pigtail in confusion, he asked, "Hiro, Dai, where is everyone?"

Stifling a laugh, Hiro smiled. "It's time for lunch, man. What say we go outside and get some fresh air or something while we eat our bentos?"

If it was any period that Ranma liked the most in Furinkan, it was most definitely lunch period. Usually, he had a delicious, tasty bento cooked by Kasumi and would sit in his favorite spot, which was under the oak tree, with either Ukyou, Akane, or the two boys, depending on his mood and needs at the moment. Based on past experience, Hiro and Dai knew that Ranma would cheer up, or feel better at the very least, come lunch. They planned to talk to him, if he was willing, about what happened that morning.

They were correct in one aspect, but they were wrong in another.

As soon as Hiro said the word 'lunch', his mood indeed changed. But instead of shifting from a sort of distracted introspection, a switch seemed to flick the other way, fueling Ranma with a sudden surge of energy. Had Hiro and Dai been able to see Ranma's aura, they would've been surprised. It was a bluish determination, more than matching Ranma's usual yellow confident aura in intensity. As it was, Hiro reflexively took a step back, surprised at this abrupt change. Dai looked on with amazement, and with a little apprehension.

Ranma Saotome's eyes were alive, radiating with pure determination and unbreakable resolve. To his friends, it looked as if he'd decided upon a difficult decision that had been plaguing him for some time. It would turn out that they were correct.

Hesitantly, Daisuke asked Ranma, "Hey Saotome, what's wrong?" Hiroshi mutely nodded his agreement with the question.

Ranma just stood there. For a moment he was silent, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he met Daisuke's eyes and smiled faintly.

"Nothing's wrong, Dai. I've just made a difficult decision, one that, for a long while, I've never thought I could ever determine on acting upon." He paused for a second, then continued, "I need to go now, even though it'll probably mean missing the remaining half of the day. It doesn't matter anyway; what I have to do is more important to my life in the future."

It was Hiroshi who ventured to ask the obvious question, "Where are you headed?"

Ranma's answer was quick and offhanded. "I think I need a long, good chat with my mother, Nodoka Saotome."

End Chapter 2

Author's Notes:

Whew, a tough one to write! Thank goodness it's done! To the readers, sorry about the delay. At the same time while I was writing this, I was also doing some heavy editing for the prologue, as well as writing the second chapter of my 'The Incredibles' fic.

C&C is very welcome and appreciated. In the future when I reach a certain chapter, perhaps chapter six or seven, I'll start doing a rewrite of earlier chapters and posting them up on the FFML, implementing all the suggestions and corrections everyone sent me - ).

Stay tuned for Chapter 2, as we see what the Joes are up to, and Cobra starts the beginning stages of their plan. See ya there!


	4. Crossing the Line Chapter 2 Part 1

Disclaimer: G.I. Joe (and Ranma 1/2) do not belong to me. Only in my dreams...

Timeline:

G.I. Joe is around five months before the events in G.I. Joe the Movie. It has been a year and a half ever since the episodes of Arise Serpentor Arise took place.

Ranma ½ is three weeks after Ranma's battle with Saffron.

The year is 1987

Credits: Much thanks to my pre-readers Hpackrat, Kevin, Spornoc, Dragon Dagger, and James for helping a LOT. Without them, finishing this chapter would've been next to impossible.

Thanks a million!

Quick Note: For further information on all the Joe members mentioned here, see the Joe Reference Sheet I've posted along this chapter.

" " conversation  
' ' thoughts  
Japanese  
1,2,... Footnotes and comments

The warrior with short, black hair sat in the middle of his dojo, meditating. Wearing a medium gray gi, he was completely motionless, save for his slow breathing. A simply constructed, yet very serviceable katana lay across his lap. He was alone, cut off from society by the closed doors, and was well used to the fact; he'd done this many times in the past.

Suddenly, in a blur of motion, he grabbed the katana and rolled to his left, barely avoiding a trio of shuriken that thudded into the spot he'd just vacated. He came up on one knee, holding out in his left hand the katana, still in its sheath, before him. Wary and alert from the unexpected attack, he waited for the assassin to reveal himself. He was not disappointed.

The closed entrance to the dojo was smashed inward in a scattering of wood and paper. Displaying an impressive level of stealth, a group of black clad, tight fitting suited, masked men swarmed silently into the dojo. The man saw that they, like him, were armed with katanas. Upon seeing their method of dress and their choice of weapons, the warrior easily came to the one unmistakable conclusion.

Ninjas. Sent by who, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to waste time by trying to find out. The warrior's eyes narrowed and he rose to his feet, preparing himself for the inevitable assault. He raised his right arm, grasped the hilt, and slowly pulled his katana out of its scabbard. Ready to fight, and die if necessary, as a true warrior should, he dropped the scabbard, wrapped his left hand around the hilt, and brought the katana up vertically before his eyes. Calmly regarding the odds against him, he spoke but one word.

"Hajime."

He darted forward, lowering his katana into a slashing position, and attacked, all within a blink of an eye. The ninjas hesitated for a split second, taken completely by surprise that their target, a single man, would be so reckless as to initiate an attack first against a numerically superior foe. They paid for that as three of their number slumped to the ground, never to see another sunrise.

Pausing for a moment, the man altered his stance and charged ahead to attack again. It was then the fight began in earnest. However, the ninjas were prepared this time and met his charge with naked steel. The warrior didn't falter in the slightest, though; his blade was a shining blur as it slashed, cut, and deflected, weaving an impenetrable flashing shield all around him.

The ring of steel on steel, the groans of the dead and the dying, the gasps of the wounded; all these contaminated the atmosphere of just what was seconds ago, a peaceful and quiet dojo.

He killed the first who came within reach, his katana splitting the ninja's skull even as the ninja's own blade lifted to strike. Instinctively sidestepping a thrust from behind, the warrior's blinding speed saved his life three times in a single second, his katana knocking aside the strikes easily. His eyes glowed without mercy, his arms and body tireless, his entire soul the perfect weapon.

His katana darted past a blade that tried to block, and sheathed six inches of its point in a black garbed midsection. As it slid out of the dead ninja, the warrior quickly snatched up the katana which its previously living owner had dropped. Now, with dual blades, he became a virtual whirlwind of edged death. Every limb was always in motion, and every movement was efficient, nothing was wasted at all.

Superior speed, skill, and reflexes all belonged to the man. They kept him alive in countless situations in the past, as they did now. The advantage that his mysterious opponents held was that they were many and their numbers seemed endless. In fact, for every ninja he killed, two more rushed through the door to take their dead brethren's place. But despite that, he knew he could not give up, could not back down, because an assassin group such as this always never took prisoners.

But the one single thing that truly made the difference was that the warrior had fully entered into zanshen, the state of no mind. He had achieved an awareness at the level suggestive of a complete sixth sense; the total involvement in an environment that which zanshen practitioners aimed for. He was fully aware of everything taking place around him. His eyes caught every action, his ears heard every sound, and his feet felt every vibration transmitted to him through the dojo floor. All this information was absorbed and acted upon instantly. His self consciousness was subordinated unto his concentration; his mind moved freely and responded to each attack immediately, bypassing the thought and directly moving on to the action.

He went into a spiraling dance, his katanas whipping all around him, his footwork keeping him free from being boxed in, his acute senses watching his back for any attacks from that direction. Of his weapons, his left hand guided the parries, while the right hand orchestrated the attacks and counterattacks. Then both of them would switch tasks back and forth whenever the situation called for it.

At least eleven bodies lay on the wooden floor, and yet they still came, reinforcements arriving in greater numbers then before. It seemed hopeless, but the warrior still fought on, inwardly vowing to continue on until his last breath of life……..

Somewhere very far from where the battle was taking place, two men watched the events play out on a monitor, both with differing expressions. One of them, taller than his companion, remarked impatiently, "Why is the process taking so long?"

The other one, a bald-headed man wearing eyeglasses, said in an exasperated tone, "Because I am not using the full output of what the machine is capable of." Before his companion could ask the obvious question, he explained further. "I fear that the using the machine at full power has a good chance, possibly ninety percent, of turning him into a mindless vegetable." He smirked knowingly and said, "I know that is one result that you sincerely do not wish to happen."

The taller man just shook his head angrily and muttered, "It's still going too slow. Inform me if there any progress is made." He stomped towards the doorway and exited the room. The bald headed man gave an amused chuckle and continued watching the battle.

"I must say that he possesses extremely strong willpower. At this rate, it might take a week, possibly more, before he succumbs….."

A G.I. Joe/Ranma ½ Crossover

Crossing the Line

By Darksoar

Chapter Two, Part One:

Training Day

It was an hour after midnight in a small, unimportant town in southern Texas.

The sniper was waiting for the rest of his team to get into position. He was a tall burly man, dressed in a dark gray jacket and matching pants, with knee high black boots. An even length of yellow hair ran out from the edges of a black cap, and he wore black rimmed dark red goggles. A one-piece communicative headset fit snugly around his cap.

His code-name for this mission was Dark Sight, and he was in his element. On the rooftop of a ten-story apartment, his sniper rifle on a stand before him, he was kneeling in the darkened shadow of the upraised entryway of the roof access stairs. With his current position, and his own dark clothes, he was practically invisible.

Even for such a late time, the streets were strangely empty, with nary a soul to be seen. It was also almost dead quiet near his position, though he could hear the faint music of Michael Jackson's Thriller playing half a block away. He'd picked this particular building for a simple reason. It provided a good, unobstructed view of the old, abandoned warehouse which he was keeping an eye on and its immediate surroundings.

Also, it stood at a tall enough height to help him avoid being seen from street level.

Having arrived over an hour ago, Dark Sight had situated himself comfortably enough, yet had the good sense not to grow careless while waiting for the predetermined time to check in with Alpha Team. He was too well trained to let his attention drift during the period of non-activity; at the moment, he was slowly sweeping the warehouse. To compensate for the blackness of the night, a night sight adapter was connected to the scope of his sniper rifle. Later that night, perhaps in the next half-hour or so, his superiors had informed him that there was going to be a drug purchase.

The mission of Alpha Team, which consisted of him, GunnyBear, Wildfish, and Weapons Cook, was to raid the warehouse which was the predetermined meeting place. Casualties were allowed and expected, but at all costs they had to at least take the pickup man alive. Extreme caution was, of course, advised.

The night sight adapter worked by amplifying any source of available reflected light, in this case moonlight, and allowed Dark Sight to view his surroundings clearly. At the moment, he was methodically checking every nook and cranny within twenty-five feet of the warehouse large enough to hide a man. So far, he'd counted ten men outside of the building, all bristling with AK-47s and handguns strapped on either hip. Now he had to find out how many were inside, and in able to do that, he had to change scope adapters.

With the ease that was born from many hours of practice, he worked quickly and efficiently in complete darkness, gently disconnecting the night sight and stowing it away in its pouch on his left leg. Then, opening a second pouch right next to it, he carefully slipped out another tube-shaped lens device and fastened it to the scope, twisting until it was firmly tightened and secure. Nodding in satisfaction, the sniper brought his eye to look through the scope again.

What he saw made him smile faintly. It seemed that the walls weren't insulated enough to stop infrared technology from penetrating them and allowing him to see how many drug smugglers were inside. He mentally took note of the number and then double-checked it. After doing reconfirming the number of guards outside, the sniper quickly went over his actions to check and see if he'd missed anything. That was unlikely but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Dark Sight had already gone through the proper preparations of cleaning his rifle and checking his ammo and gear. Using a laser rangefinder to determine the average target range, he used that information to apply the necessary adjustments to the rifle. A few minutes later, he had come to the conclusion that he would need to target at least six inches above the actual target to allow for trajectory drop.

The conditions that night worked in his favor. The illumination provided by the moon was just right; meaning to say that it wasn't bright enough to enable the naked eye to see him, but it was enough for him to see anyone else using the night sight adapter. He was an old hand at this, with about fifteen years of experience, and his exceptional talent had been sharpened by the passage of time and by constant practice.

He was as ready as he would ever be.

Checking the time again, he noted that it was ten minutes before he was scheduled to check in with his three other teammates and supply them with the intel he had gathered. After doing that, he would wait again until they reached their checkpoints and confirm their positions with him. Then it would be simply a matter of patiently waiting for the person responsible for delivering the money to show up.

* * *

At the moment, the rest of Alpha Team was behind a car auto shop directly south of Dark Sight's position. The three men stood in a line pressed against the wall. Each carried a black, army standard sized backpack, wore black and dark gray military fatigues, carried a standard M-16 rifle in their hands and had pistols strapped to their waists. In addition, they also wore a headset similar to what the sniper had and a set of night vision glasses hanging around their necks. 

"Are you finished yet?" whispered the man in the middle of the line, a tall, burly man with black hair and a mustache. He spoke in a low gravelly voice and was glancing around, his nerves tight..

"Keep your voice down. I'm still calibrating it. You've been asking me that question almost every minute. Even for a block-headed Marine, you're supposed to be more disciplined than this. Now shut up and don't distract me, GunnyBear." The man in the front, a curly red-brown haired man, was concentrating on making some adjustments to a device in his hands. Though shorter and leaner then his both of his teammates, hidden under the fatigues, he, as well as the two other men, possessed a hard muscled body that spoke of rigorous training.

"Sure thing, Wildfish," returned GunnyBear, amused, with the beginnings of a smirk on his weathered face.

The third and last member of their team, a large, bald African American with a mustache, who was also the biggest out of the trio, spoke in a tight, controlled voice that sounded annoyed. He began to feel exasperated; banter such as this between these two was a favorite past time when they were in each other's company, but now it was threatening to increase the difficulty of their mission. "Keep the volume down a bit, you two; we'll be found out if you sound like a zoo." 1

GunnyBear gave him a sarcastic look but heeded the advice. "Roger that, Weapons Cook," he muttered. He frowned in disgust. "'GunnyBear', what the hell. I'm going to kill whoever came up with that damned ridiculous code-name," he grimly promised in a low, ominous sounding tone of voice.

Wildfish didn't offer any comment as he was focused on finishing the proper adjustments on the one piece of military equipment whose value was incalculable on this particular mission; night vision binoculars. Standard military issue, state of the art tech, its function was similar to the night sight adapter that Dark Sight had employed, but it had the advantage of superior range and clarity. It also retained the same function as a normal set of binoculars.

Although Wildfish didn't say anything, years of serving with him allowed GunnyBear to guess with fair enough accuracy what the smaller man was thinking. His teammate probably wanted to say something along the lines of GunnyBear's code-name coincidentally sounding like his favorite TV show. How in the world did Wildfish discover that particular secret of his was something GunnyBear really wanted to find out.

At the same time, long familiarity with the burly Marine allowed Wildfish to suspect that GunnyBear was currently trying to puzzle out exactly how in the world did that particular secret become known to him. He didn't exactly smile, but his lips twitched upward and then resumed as a straight line. Next time, GunnyBear had better make sure he locked his door before drinking beer and watching TV at the same time.

If the guys back at HQ ever found out that GunnyBear enjoyed watching a cartoon which featured talking bears drinking juice and bouncing around on their asses, they'd never allow him to forget it. 2

Silence reigned for the next couple of minutes. During that period of time, Wildfish finally completed the necessary calibrations. Cautiously edging around the corner, he started a slow and precise reconnoiter. Weapons Cook and GunnyBear patiently waited for him and kept alert to any sign of potential trouble.

A few minutes passed by in complete silence, then a voice quietly came to life within all of the three men's headsets. "Alpha Team, this is Dark Sight. Do you read me, over?"

"Dark Sight, this is GunnyBear. I'm reading you. What is your report, over?"

"The Wolves are alive in the Den, I repeat, the Wolves are alive in the Den. Over."

"Roger that, Dark Sight. Acknowledged, the Wolves are alive in the Den. Transmit gathered intel on Wolves, do you copy? Over."

The voice paused for a moment, then said, "Acknowledged. Six on ground with AK-47s; Four on the roof armed with same; infrared detects three more in the building, most probably the top dogs. Over." Still scanning, Wildfish replied, "Dark Sight, Wildfish. I concur with the number outside. I count ten, that is T-E-N, standing guard."

The sniper's voice said, "Wildfish, Dark Sight. Confirmed, ten guards out. Repeating, three hot bodies in."

Wildfish eased back from the corner and quietly conferred with his team and Dark Sight for a few minutes. It was decided that when the pickup man would show up, which was probably in the next half hour, Alpha Team would wait until he would enter the building. Then, on a signal from Dark Sight (after he received confirmation from everyone that they were all set), all of them would open fire simultaneously at preselected targets. Wildfish and Weapons Cook would stage an assault from both sides while Gunny Bear would attack from behind. When all of the guards were down, they would deal with the remainder inside by the strategic application of tear gas.

Of course, all the members of Alpha Team understood that once the first shot was fired, the men in the building would definitely stay inside the warehouse and return fire from the relative shelter inside. Thus, it would fall to GunnyBear to throw in the tear gas as soon as possible. Once that happened, Alpha Team would wait for the gas to take effect and then burst in. It was a mission, and so they would accomplish it. Each member was well equipped, extensively trained, and confident in their skills and experience. It would help that they would have the advantage of surprise and would be able to fire the first shots.

And now, three minutes before they started moving out, they took this opportunity to exchange a few whispered words.

Shifting his grip on the standard M-16 he was holding, GunnyBear gave it a disdainful look. "Wish I had my M203 40mm grenade launcher attached to this piece of junk," he muttered.

Weapons Cook agreed with him. He shook his head, showing disapproval of his own inadequate weapon. "I hear ya, loud and clear. This li'l heap won't kill no deer. My mah-deuce is big and strong; this little stick is just plain wrong."

Wildfish spared a glance at them, shaking his head almost pityingly. "You two are pathetic. You depend too much on a single armament, and such over specializing is never a good idea. I, on the other hand, am extremely proficient with a wide variety of weapons." The way the last sentence was said indicated that it wasn't a boast; he was just stating a fact.

GunnyBear shot him one of his most sarcastic glares and briefly contemplated slugging Wildfish in the ribs while he wasn't looking. A second later, he reconsidered and shrugged off the temptation. He settled for snorting gently in reply and whispering, "Extremely proficient my ass. It's too bad that you don't share a bonding love like Weapons Cook and I do."

Wildfish caught the perturbed, bothered look on the African American's face and choked back the impulse to roar in laughter. He smirked. "Oh, I didn't know the two of you were... close like THAT."

Weapons Cook butted in, speaking with a slightly annoyed, though controlled tone of voice. "Shuddup, don't go actin' like some fool. Or else I'm gonna be losing my cool."

GunnyBear looked confused for a moment then reviewed back on his earlier sentence. His eyes widened in sudden dismay and he suppressed an urge to slap his forehead in self-disgust. A burst of anger sprung up and ignited his temper; however he was forced it down somehow, knowing that the mission came first. Perhaps he would get a chance to get some payback later...

Shrugging his shoulders and ignoring Wildfish's smirk, he glanced down at his watch. At seeing the current time, his entire demeanor instantly transformed, becoming serious and professional in a split second. Turning towards his teammates, GunnyBear made a zipping gesture across his lips and raised the night vision goggles to put them on. Both of his teammates immediately understood and followed suit. The burly man made a fist and swung it in a small circle above his head. Alpha Team, sans sniper, broke away from the auto shop and spread out in three different directions, heading towards their respective checkpoints.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later: 

Like a statue, Dark Sight was motionless. The only sign of life at all from him was his steady, slow breathing. From his spot he was continuously sweeping the warehouse, making sure that no additional guards arrived or any other surprises made themselves known. Despite all that time waiting, he possessed almost inhuman patience and discipline, as was required for a sniper.

A voice crackled gently into his ear. "Wildfish at checkpoint."

Dark Sight replied, "Acknowledged. Select target and follow."

"Roger that." A pause, then, "Acquired Target Number 1, right side of door."

"Acknowledged."

Only a few seconds passed and then a low voice reported in. "Weapons Cook at checkpoint."

Alpha Team's sniper grinned faintly. He suspected that Weapons Cook had to fight the urge to report in using a rhyme. "Acknowledged. Select target and follow."

"Acquired Target Number 2, left side of door."

The sniper thought to himself, 'That's good. We have to take down the ones closest to the door so the others won't be in a rush to dash inside for cover. There's a decent chance that they will spread out and make easier targets. In any case, that makes three targets accounted for, including mine on the rooftop. In order to ensure that the rest of the team, I have to be at my fastest and knock those three down so they won't be able to provide cover from higher ground.'

A minute passed, then two, yet there was no communications from the last remaining Alpha Team member. But the sniper had expected that; it made sense that it would take GunnyBear more time and caution to circle around towards the rear of the warehouse. As he patiently waited, his ears caught the sound of a car nearby. He looked down and to the right, keeping his gaze on the road expectantly. Sure enough, a blue car drove past the apartment, heading straight towards the warehouse. It stopped about fifteen feet from the entrance and the engine was killed. The door on the driver's side opened and a man wearing a suit got out, carrying a briefcase.

Dark Sight would've bet his life on the odds of that being the deliveryman.

Two of the guards went to meet him. After sharing a few words, one of them escorted the new arrival inside the warehouse while the other one resumed his post.

'The stage is set, the players are ready. He'd better report in soon...'

* * *

GunnyBear was fiercely tempted to curse out loud. He had to settle for doing it silently though. 'Damn those two good for nothing asses for doing such a sloppy reconnaissance. I'm gonna knock their blocks off when I get the chance!' Trust them to give him the hard part. Completing the mission took priority over everything else however, so he was forced to shelve his anger and focus on the task at hand. At the moment, he was in an alleyway directly north of the warehouse, hiding behind a garbage bin between two buildings. It had taken him a considerable amount of time and stealth to get there. About twenty feet in front of him was the rear of the warehouse and his objective. There was only a slight problem though. 

There were three more guards posted there, and they were all spread out. It was highly unlikely, even with his skill and training, he would be able to get them all before they raised an alarm or returned fire and killed him, either of which was most definitely not an option. GunnyBear clenched his teeth angrily and crouched down against the wall, trying to think of what to do. He was aware that he had to do something soon; the pickup would soon arrive and he had to be in position when it did.

His brow furrowed in thought; it would make his job much more easier if he could use the full automatic firing mode. But as tempting as that idea was, he discarded it as foolhardy. In order to do that, he would have to take off the silencer. He would be able to take out all three before they could alert the others, but then again, the sound of his rifle firing would serve as a most effective alarm. And as it stood, he and his teammates were outnumbered, so they needed to grab every possible advantage, which meant whatever plan he thought of, stealth had to be considered as a primary factor. Unfortunately, it was a hindrance in regards to his current predicament; with single shot, at best he could get one before the others got under cover, raised the alarm, and began to try and pinpoint his location, which wouldn't be that difficult and also wouldn't take that long. When that happened, he would be screwed because they would return fire, keeping him pinned down, and eventually get him sooner or later.

No, it was obvious that a better plan was needed. He had to do something to distract them, or to make them bunch up together in a group, but what could he do?

At that moment luck decided to smile upon him.

GunnyBear suddenly heard a sound of movement. He stifled the reflexive urge to poke gun out from behind his cover and fire away. Cool logic washed over him and he then realized that whatever it had been, the sound was not that of a foot scuffling against pavement or anything like that. He immediately relaxed after a moment's consideration. It wasn't any of the henchmen walking in his direction, he realized, but rather some sort of small creature, most likely a stray cat searching for food in the trash bin. Nothing to be worried about, in any case. The Alpha Team member let out a slow breath as relief crashed down upon him, he hadn't realized how tensed up he was. Then his eyes widened as an idea dawned upon him. He went over it and decided that, lacking any other feasible options, he might as well give it a shot.

The henchmen patrolling the area were startled by a sound coming from the alleyway directly in front of them. They immediately responded; one flicked on his flashlight, trained it on the area, and motioned for the other two to check it out, who wordlessly agreed. They raised their AK-47s and started advancing carefully. All of them were on the edge, and were more than a little trigger-happy. Then came another noise, similar to the first, and as they got closer, it sounded like something or someone bumping against made out of metal. That made their anxiety leap to roof-level and they just barely refrained from pulling the trigger.

The flashlight holder frowned in confusion as he played the beam all over the alleyway, he could see nothing at all. In fact, the only place that he hadn't checked was... It seemed that his fellow guards had the same idea as he did. They instantly focused their attention at the one possible hiding place available in such a tight and narrow space.

Behind the trash bin.

However, before they could take a step forward, there came a lazy meowing sound. All three of the men looked at each other in a dumbfounded manner, blinked once in eerie synchronization, and looked back at the area near the trashbin. With perfect timing, out into range of the flashlight's beam walked a black and white, scrawny cat. Apparently unafraid of the light nor of the nearby presence of three hulking humans, it looked up at them once, meowed again, and leisurely padded past them out of the alley.

Said three hulking humans stood there for two seconds and then started chuckling. Ribbing each other about being freaked out by nothing, they turned around and began walking back to their stations. Feeling more relaxed, they let themselves grow a tad bit more careless than they should had.

BIG mistake on their part.

* * *

Back on the rooftop, Dark Sight was thinking to check with GunnyBear. It had already been almost a minute and a half since the deliveryman had arrived; it wouldn't be long before he took his leave. Once that happened, the mission would then be officially considered a failure, something that wouldn't be approved by the higher-ups in charge. He decided to wait for thirty seconds more then he would contact the Marine. 

However, it turned out to be unnecessary. A few moments later, the sniper heard the familiar gravelly voice break into his headset. "GunnyBear at checkpoint; pardon the delay. Encountered some trouble back here, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Dark Sight replied, "Acknowledged. Select target and follow."

"Acquired Target three, near the car."

"Acknowledged." And then, "All right, track your designated targets and await my command to fire." He had to give credit to GunnyBear; he was disciplined to refrain from accusing and blaming him and Wildfish on the airwaves for not doing a 'better job' on reconnaissance. That in itself gave Dark Sight credible suspicion that his teammate would rant and rave about it later in private. He'd have to deal with that later, and knowing the propensity of GunnyBear's temper, he was afraid that the Marine might soon be causing a headache in the not so far future. But enough of that, now he had to focus on the present situation.

After receiving three affirmatives, Dark Sight nodded to himself in satisfaction; the mission could properly be

gin. A faint smile of what might have been eager anticipation showed itself briefly, and then he seemed to switch his entire body language, becoming cold and hardened, ready for business. "Show time," he muttered into the headset, looking through the eyepiece; he swung slightly to the left, tracking his first target, squeezed the trigger--.

* * *

The raid itself was short, quick, and completely one-sided. 

The first four guards, one on the roof and three below, were downed roughly at the same time. In the single second that it took for the others to fully realize that they were under sudden attack, another roof guard had succumbed to the precise and quick shooting of Dark Sight. As the rest threw themselves flat on the ground and frantically rolled towards what little cover was available, Alpha Team shifted their positions to gain better angles on new targets.

The surviving drug henchmen managed to inform their bosses inside the warehouse that they were being ambushed. Due to the fact that Alpha Team were using silencers, night vision, and had the advantage of firing the first shots, any of the guards who either tried to run to get behind the neighboring buildings for cover or get inside the warehouse joined were easily picked off. Even though the guards on the roof threw themselves flat, Dark Sight had them in his sights before they could get behind any sort of cover.

One henchman managed to make it to the side of the warehouse. With his concentration on weaving erratically to the right and left during his run in an attempt to avoid getting shot, he never noticed GunnyBear until it was too late. He clutched at his chest and fell on his back, joining the demise of three other henchmen who were near a particular alleyway. Grinning and bending under window height to avoid being shot by the drug smugglers inside, the burly Marine carefully made his way to the front and staged a successful sneak attack on two guards who were hiding behind the deliveryman's car. Ignoring their angry glares as they slid to the ground, he shrugged nonchalantly and looked around for any survivors.

A quick check revealed that they'd gotten all of them. Wildfish and Weapons Cook had cautiously emerged from wherever they'd hiding, taking cover behind the car. With handsignals and gestures, they conferred with their teammate, who was in a crouch against the left side of the warehouse. They knew without a doubt that the leaders of this bunch were ready to shoot anyone who tried to enter. Thus, the idea of kicking down the door and bursting in with guns blazing was immediately discarded on the grounds of being 'tactically unsound'. Attempting to shoot at them through the windows was crossed out as well; they'd be closely watched as well, accompanied by itchy trigger fingers. However there was a much easier way to accomplish the mission.

While the other two men covered him, GunnyBear crouch-walked to the nearest window, which happened to be right behind him. Working rapidly, he laid his M-16 on the ground beside him, swept off his backpack, placed it down, and opened it up. He reached inside with both hands and brought out a pair of knock out gas grenades. Without hesitating, he proceeded to throw them, one at a time and as hard as he could, at the window. As soon as second grenade smashed through the glass, GunnyBear was already digging into his backpack for two more. Once those made the flight into the building and he was already supplying his hands with a third set, an authoritative voice called out from inside, "Okay, that's enough! We surrender!"

Grinning smugly, he grabbed his equipment and stood up. He repeated the message for the rest of Alpha Team's sake then headed towards the warehouse front. Giving a thumbs up to Weapons Cook and Wildfish, he went and opened the door, standing back for a brief moment to allow the gas to vent out. When he judged the visibility inside was good enough to see by, the Marine promptly walked in, not affected by the remaining gas at all.

Four figures, all of who were fully conscious and apparently suffering no ill effects from the gas, stood at the back of the building holding various types of guns. GunnyBear casually threw a mock salute towards the man who had ordered the surrender, smirking victoriously.

"Sorry Flint, you lose."

Dressed in black slacks, gray polo, and missing his favorite beret, Flint smiled ruefully. "I guess I do," he admitted, "Nicely played, GunnyBear, or should I say, Leatherneck?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a radio, flicking it on. "All personnel, Flint here. Simulation Smuggler-Raid is at an end. Drill finished."

Sighs of complaints arose everywhere as the 'dead' drug henchmen got up from where they had been 'killed'. They'd been wearing T-shirts that were splattered with red paint circles where they'd been shot by Alpha Team. All the rifles and handguns of the participants had been modified to shoot paint; so when a person was 'shot', except for a temporary sting, it didn't hurt. The sting was to inform whomever it was that they'd been shot, and so had to act accordingly, e.g. falling down 'dead'.

Some of them turned to Roadblock and Wetsuit AKA Weapons Cook and Wildfish respectively, complimenting them on a raid very well executed. Dusty, Iceberg, and Airborne had been the rear guards who had been distracted and then shot from behind by Leatherneck. Wild Bill, Blow Torch, Clutch, and Frost Bite had posed as the guards on the roof while Lift Ticket, Sci-Fi, Crank-Case, Barbecue, Recondo, and Rip Cord played the guards in front.

Back inside the warehouse, a red-bearded man (who played as one of the four men) with a northern accent turned Leatherneck. "Hey GunnyBear, couldn't you have watched where you were throwing those canisters? You nearly hit me on the head with them!"

The recipient of that question glared in reply. "Hey, you're lucky that the 'tear gas' is only ordorless and harmless gas. Now that the drill's over Snow Job, quit calling me that 'GunnyBear' crap. It's Leatherneck, now and forever. When I find out who came up with that ridiculous codename, I'm gonna have a few words with him."

"Even if it's General Hawk or Duke?" teased Airtight, the Joe's resident C.B.R. 3 specialist, who had played as the deliveryman. Leatherneck turned his glare on him, which turned out to be so menacing that Airtight gulped and took a step back. "Hey, take it easy old-timer, we wouldn't want you to suffer from a heart attack due to poor anger management, now wouldn't we?"

In a flash of motion, Leatherneck grabbed the smaller man by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, shaking him like a rag doll. "Have some respect for your elders, you punk!" he roared. Snow Job and Zap, an anti-tank weaponry specialist who also played as a third drug leader, reacted quickly and grabbed onto the arms of the hot-tempered Marine and tried to pull the two of them apart. Not an easy feat considering Leatherneck was built like a bull and possessed more strength than either of them.

"What did you call me, you pipsqueaking two-bit joker! Say that again, I dare you!" 4

"Sergeant Metzger, cease and desist! That's an order, mister!" When his words produced no immediate results, Flint felt a minor headache coming into existence. Being familiar with Leatherneck's bullheaded relentlessness, he knew that it would be a while until he calmed down.

At that moment, a distraction of sorts arrived; Low Light (Dark Sight) and Wetsuit walked in to see what was happening. Upon seeing Leatherneck's actions, the sniper just grunted and crossed his arms over his chest, choosing to be an observer. Wetsuit just shook his head in mock dismay; out of all the Joes, he was probably the most familiar with his friend's temper. He stepped forward to give the others a hand in restraining the enraged Marine.

Leatherneck caught a glimpse of the Navy Seal approaching. Turning his head fully in Wet Suit's direction, he saw Low Light as well. He suddenly remembered the trouble he had encountered because of the sloppy recon (in his opinion) done by those two and his anger suddenly found a more viable target. Releasing his grasp on a relieved Airtight, he growled at Wet Suit. Now was a perfect time for some payback!

Wet Suit recognized the look in his eyes and had one second to murmur "Ah crap," before Leatherneck broke free of Snow Job and Zap with a sudden burst of strength and charged right at him. The sounds of a struggle followed very soon after that and it got the attention of some of the other Joes standing outside the warehouse. Upon entering, they saw the two men rolling over and over the floor, grappling and wrestling with each other.

Airtight said to no one in particular, "With a temper like that, it's no surprise how he ever became a drill sergeant." Everyone within earshot of that comment nodded in agreement. Needless to say, it took a while to separate the two combatants and in the process, Flint's headache took the opportunity to grow a little more intense.

* * *

G.I. Joe Headquarters "The Pit" 

Main Gymnasium,

The next day

9:00 am:

Any other day, the court would be filled with a bunch of Joes engaged in a rousing game of basketball. Today was an exception; in accordance with the new training regime designed by the combined efforts of Sgt. Slaughter, Flint, and Beach Head as per Hawk's orders, multiple intensive sessions of hand to hand combat were being held simultaneously. The general himself was observing onsite with Beach Head.

"How are the hand to hand combat sessions been going?" Hawk winced in sympathy as he saw Snake Eyes, who was in charge of said combat sessions, use a judo move to throw a hapless TripWire over his shoulder and down onto the thankfully cushioned mattress.

Beach Head flipped through the various progress reports and began speaking. "Snake and Slaughter have pretty much gott'n dis part of training under wraps, Gen'ral. Not a bad start, considerin' it's only been a week ever since ya gave Flint 'd order ta revise our trainin' program. He's managed ta drag Stalkuh, Quick Kick, and that cold guhtt'd fish Torpaydo into it as supervisors. Ah'll bet that once Skahlett gets back from her leave, they'll put her ta work as soon as poss'ble. Those of 'd men who ahn't out on those trainin' misshans are here doin' their level best ta beat each uther down. Based on these," tapping his finger on the progress reports, "They're performin' at ah decent 'nuff level." He paused, then said, "Word from Flint just came in this mornin'. He's got Luthuhneck helpin' him settin' up sev'ral war games and specific situation sim'lations for his group ta run. Seems that they've just finished 'd first one just last night and he reports that based on 'd results, they'll be focusin' on increasin' d' efficiency of doing recon and teamwork." 5

"I see. Send a message reminding to give those men an intense workout, and then some. Push them to their limits," Hawk said, looking around him and studying how the separate sessions were going. Beach Head waited patiently, knowing that the he wasn't finished talking yet. The Ranger occupied his time by following the general's lead and also began watching the various Joes as they trained.

Finally, the general said, "By the way, regarding Scarlett, any news from her?" The Joe in question was on leave for a month. She was in Japan, looking up some of her old senseis and also wanted to expand her knowledge of the martial arts. It had been two weeks ever since she'd left, but Hawk wanted to keep tabs on his Joes, on leave or not. With Cobra still at large out there somewhere, a hostage situation wasn't completely out of the question.

Beach Head replied, "Dial Town informed me dat yestheday Ms. O' Hana called up an' left a fax for her fav'rit' Joe, Snake. She told Dial Town she wuz jus' bein' a reg'lur tourist and also said ta inform ev'ryone dat she'd bring back pi'churs." At that, Hawk smiled and returned to watching the training sessions.

In the far corner, Gung Ho and Bazooka were wrestling, each trying to pin the other to the ground. Alpine, who was a good friend of Bazooka, was alternating between shouting encouragement and dreading the moment when it was to be his turn.

Next to them in a miniature boxing ring, Rock 'n Roll and Footloose were wearing protective gloves and were shuffling in circles, throwing jabs and straights, trying to knock each other down. All though both had similar training, Rock 'n Roll had more experience, was also bigger, stronger and soon had the younger man on the ropes.

Quick Kick was in the process of teaching Slip Stream the basics of Karate. Only the incredibly fast reflexes of the Air Force lieutenant enabled him to dodge and block most of the attacks. Although Quick Kick was going easy on him, Beach Head witnessed Slip Stream misjudge his opponent's recovery speed and receive a roundhouse kick to the chest for his troubles. He shook his head and continued on with the inspection.

On a practice matt in the center of the room, a cursing and in the process of being totally humiliated Shipwreck was currently being tossed around like a ragdoll. His cockiness and self-confidence were the only things that he could blame for placing him in such a situation. How could he've known that Lady Jaye turned out to proficient in Judo? If he had known, he definitely would've snuck away to train with someone else. Now the sailor regretted it because he knew that by the next morning, he would have bruises in places he had no idea he had. The Joe's head honcho and the Ranger were hard pressed not to laugh at the spectacle.

On a similar note, the H.A.V.O.C. 6 driver Robert M. Blais, otherwise known as Cross Country, was doing his best in trying to pit his unarmed fighting skill against the unmovable mountain known as Sgt. Slaughter. As far as Cross Country was concerned, it was completely a waste of time because at the moment, the Joe's biggest, strongest drill instructor had his head under a massive armpit in a secure hold and was shouting questions along the lines of what was he going to do now and he was going to 'die' in the next minute unless he got free. Blais was now yelling that he had enough and that the sergeant could let him go now. Of course he was ignored and Slaughter was maniacally laughing his ass off.

Hawk managed not to smile at the sight; it seemed that Slaughter was in a good mood today. He turned to Beach Head, who was jotting down something in his notes, and said, "Wayne," using his real name, "I'll be in my office going over those reports which you've already compiled. Continue on with your observations."

Beach Head saluted and handed his commanding officer the finished progress reports. "Ya got it, Gen'ral."

"Carry on." Hawk nodded back and walked off, heading to wards the exit, steadfastly ignoring the various volumes of pain being emitted around him. He exited the gymnasium and started heading to his office. About halfway there however, a sudden thought caused him to change his destination. The inspection of the training program was finished; he could now check up on other part of the operation that he'd placed Duke in charge of.

After walking one flight of stairs up, he came to a room which had a sign labeled, "Communications". Opening the door, he stepped in and was greeted by the sight of technicians busily working at various computer consoles and radio and telecommunications equipment. One or two happened to look in his direction, saluted him briefly, and went right back to work. The others were too absorbed in what they were doing to notice that General Hawk was in the room.

A satisfied smile appeared on his weathered face; their reaction (or lack of it) didn't bother him at all; it just more proof that they were very dedicated to their jobs and weren't slacking off. He preferred it that way. They got a lot more work done by focusing on it and by not having to stand up, salute, and wait for him to give them the command 'As you were'. Proper military etiquette was nice and all, but Clayton Abernathy was a battlefield commander, and was at his best leading his men into combat by being at the front. In his opinion, efficiency and dedication counted for more than practicing proper military etiquette.

Mainframe caught sight of him and called out, "General Hawk, I've got something that you might be interested in." The G.I. Joe top commander headed on over to the senior computer specialist's station. "Okay, show me what you got." He looked around and only saw a busy Breaker, but no Dial Tone.

Seeing where Hawk was looking, Mainframe replied, "Oh, he went to get something to eat at the cafeteria." He directed Hawk's attention to his console. "Check this out, General," he said, his fingers flying swiftly over the cumbersome keyboard while he explained. His computer monitor began displaying lists of names, all in green, changing as he typed.

"Due to Cobra's habit of using undercover agents to do a good portion of their dirty work, I created a program and implemented all the possible names that their agents have used in the past, or at least the ones we found out, along with their height, weight, hair color, eye color, blood type, etc..., all of which could be disguised or falsified, but it's a starting point, at least. I know the odds of Cobra agents using the same identity more than once is pretty nil; but I figure it couldn't hurt. The basic premise of the program was to check against the passenger listing of any airliner, cruiseship, or any other sort of travelling that requires a ticket all around the world. Of course, I had to input several Priority One NATO codes so the program could access them automatically ..." he trailed off, pressing the TAB key, and using the numeric keypad to navigate through a series of menus and submenus.

"Anyways, here we are. I made the program so it would loop infinitely, meaning that it automatically checks those listings every thirty minutes and updates them if necessary. I've even made it so it'll alert me when it finds something; that way I won't have to bother with it. I figure that it's a long shot," he shrugged, "but who knows? We might get lucky. My boys have been doing their best; Breaker, Dial Tone, and their boys been trying to pick up the radio frequencies that we found out in the past are commonly used by Cobra. I've also requested Slip Stream, due to his hacking of computers back in his high school years, to give me a hand whenever he's not too badly bruised up by Quick Kick." He smirked at that, then continued, "Despite all that, it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack the size of an ocean, but much harder, because those danged snakes are purposely lying low somewhere. But we'll be doing our best to smoke 'em out, you can bet on that sir."

Hawk nodded approvingly at his positive attitude. Like Mainframe said, it was a long shot, but better safe than sorry. He patted him on the shoulder and said, "Good job, Blaine. Keep at it, and tell Dial Tone the same. Let Duke and me know when you come up with something you think is worth paying attention to. Carry on."

* * *

International Airport of Narita, Japan 

Same day (relatively)

2:30 pm

Ms. Yoko Ichikawa? So, you're here on vacation?

The immigration officer smiled at the young woman who stood in front of his cubicle. She didn't return the smile, settling for nodding coolly. The airport official assumed that she was probably tired due to the long flight originating from LAX in California. In that case, he could easily understand her reluctance to wastefully expend more energy than needed. Stamping her passport in the necessary places, he closed it and handed it back to her. Enjoy your stay, Ichikawa-san.

Domo, she said, placing her passport in her backpack and then started pushing her cart which contained one single piece of luggage, a gray suitcase, towards the pair of electronic doors that led to the Arrivals Lounge.

At five feet five inches tall, Yoko Ichikawa was a second generation Japanese who'd spent most of her life in San Francisco, California. With short, black hair tied back in a braid, brown eyes, and possessing an athletic, exercise toned body, she was very independent by nature, and came across as a cool tempered, calm person. Yoko had just graduated from Bryn Mawr with a B.A. in Marketing and Finance; now, she had travelled to Japan on an invitation from her grandfather (on her mom's side), who said over the phone that he needed to tell her something very important about their family's history.

Since she was in Japan, after honoring her grandfather's invitation, and if she had time she would go see her aunt Tomoko, her mom's younger sister. Yoko would have to call her later and see if she could spend a few days at her house in Juuban.

Stepping through the opened doors, Yoko directed her cart to one side, so as to not impede the path of anyone else behind her, and stopped for a moment. She studied the Arrivals Lounge, looking for her grandfather, who should be somewhere waiting in the crowd. The entire area was full of mostly Japanese people, but she spotted a few Europeans standing out like islands in an ocean. In the middle of the Lounge were two rows of orange hardened plastic seats which were all occupied. At the far right, against the wall, were about two dozen pay phones while on the left were several booths for various car and apartment rentals, tour groups, refreshments, and others.

After searching for a minute, her eyes finally caught a glimpse of her grandfather, a handsome, white-haired man in his late sixties who was very fit for his age, making his way towards the front of the crowd. Upon seeing his granddaughter, he smiled warmly and waved to her. She smiled back and pushed her cart in his direction. Upon reaching him, she halted the cart and called out Grandfather, giving him a loving hug, which he returned.

Yoji Arashikage released her and took a good look at her. Yoko had certainly changed since the last time he had seen her. From the way she walked and by that hug they had shared, it let him know that she had not been lax in keeping up her training, not in the least. She was a little taller, her hair shorter, and her face showed all the signs of a mature woman in full bloom that had only been hinted at four years ago. Quiet self-confidence was also present, which could be attributed to her impressive mastery of the martial arts. 7

For her part, Yoko was looking her beloved grandfather over as well. Save for a few more lines and wrinkles on his weathered face, he looked exactly the same as she remembered. Despite his age, she could tell that he kept up his personal training in the Art and secretly hoped that he would show her some of the various styles and forms he'd learned in his lifetime. His eyes were bright and quick, to match his sharp intellect and wit, which hadn't dwindled in the slightest despite his advancing years. In fact, in the past twenty years, Yoji Arashikage had probably slowed down only by the smallest percentage. Yoko attributed that to an extremely healthy lifestyle and constant exercising, but she was certain there was something else to it. Whatever it was she didn't know. Maybe her grandfather would let her on in his secret; she knew that when she reached his age, the idea of being as spry as him was definitely very appealing.

And how is my favorite granddaughter doing? he asked with a twinkle in his eye. Yoko blushed a little at his endorsement of her; that was his standard line whenever they met with each other. It was his way of teasing her. However, when Yoji saw her reaction, he instantly knew what she was thinking. The older man smiled to himself; little did she know that he was being truthful. It generally wasn't a good idea for a grandfather to pay special attention to a specific grandchild, especially when there were others, but he couldn't help it.

Like him, some of his other grandchildren also studied martial arts, but Yoko was different, very different. She stood out from them like a wolf among sheep. The depth of her devotion to the martial arts far outstripped that of her cousins. While her cousins used it as a way to keep in shape or for basic self-defense, Yoko took it to the next level. At the tender age of twelve, she became fascinated by the philosophy behind the physical movements and techniques. It had taken her a couple of years, but by the time she had begun high school, she was well on her way to integrating the philosophy of the Art into her lifestyle. He'd learned all this from the occasional letter he'd received from his oldest daughter, her mother.

I've been doing okay, Grandfather. I just want to stretch my legs a bit after being cooped up in the plane. Her eyes brightened as an idea occurred to her. Do you think I could do some katas in your dojo? That's one thing I've been looking forward to.

Her grandfather laughed. He'd guessed that would be one of the first things she would ask. That sounds like a good idea. I'd love to see how much progress you've made since I saw you last. Although I hope you can wait though; it'll take at least half an hour to get to my house. Well, shall we take our leave of this crowd? I'm parked at lot 2-A; it's a short way from here. These old legs of mine can use the exercise.

Pecking him on the cheek affectionately, Yoko took hold of the cart's handle and replied, Lead the way, Grandfather.

End Chapter Two Part One

Author's Notes:

At long last, the next chapter is here! Hallelujah:D Seriously though, real life can be such a bch, chomping down on my writing time like that. Oh well.

Part two is in the works as you read this. Hopefully it'll be done sooner than this chapter was. I did the best job I could with the "smuggler raid". Please tell me if there are any improvements/suggestions that you guys may have in mind.

Thanks!

Footnotes

1 My rather pathetic attempt at emulating Roadblock's...peculiar way of speaking.

2 One guess on which TV show this is!

3 Stands for Chemical, Biological, and Radiological Warfare

4 His filecard says that he is indeed a practical joker

5 Pardon the mangling of Beach Head's speech

6 Stands for Heavy Artillery Vehicle Ordnance Carrier

7 Can anyone familiar with the old Marvel G.I. Joe comics guess who this new lady will be?


	5. Crossing the Line Joe Reference Sheet

G.I. Joe Personnel Quick Reference Sheet: Taken mostly from my collectioon of old Joe filecards.. 

(in order of appearance or mention)  
Low Light  
File Name: Sgt. Cooper G. Macbride  
Rank: E-6 (Army Staff Sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry/Marksmanship Instructor

Leatherneck  
File Name: Sgt. Wendell A. Metzger  
Rank: E-7 (Marine gunnery sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry(Marine)/Drill Sergeant

Wet Suit File  
Name: Brian M. Forrest  
Rank: E-5 (Navy Petty Officer)  
MOS: SEAL/Underwater Demolitions

Roadblock  
File Name: Corp. Marvin F. Hinton  
Rank: E-4 (Army Corporal)  
MOS: Infantry Heavy Weapons/Cook

Flint  
File Name: Sgt. Dashiell R. Faireborn  
Rank: E-6 (Army Staff Sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry/Helicopter Pilot

Dusty File  
Name: Corp. Ronald W. Tadur  
Rank: E-4 (Army Corporal)  
MOS: Infantry(Desert Trooper)/Refrigeration and Air Conditioning maintenance

Iceberg  
File Name: Sgt. Clifton L. Nash  
Rank: E-5 (Army Sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry/Cold Weather Survival Instructor

Airborne  
File Name: Sgt. Franklin E. Talltree  
Rank: E-5 (Army Sergeant)  
MOS: Airborne Infantryman/Helicopter Gunship Gunner

Wild Bill  
File Name: William S. Hardy  
Rank: CW-4 (Army Chief Warrant Officer)  
MOS: Helicopter Pilot/Fixed Wing Pilot, Aircraft Armorer

Blowtorch  
File Name: Corp. Timothy P. Hanrahan  
Rank: E-4 (Army Corporal)  
MOS: Infantry Special Weapons/Small Arms Armorer

Clutch  
File Name: Sgt. Lance J. Steinberg  
Rank: E-4 (Marine sergeant)  
MOS: Transportation/Infantry

Frost Bite  
File Name: Corp. Farley S. Seward  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Motor Vehicle Driver/Armor

Lift Ticket  
File Name: Victor W. Sikorski  
Rank: WO-2 (Army chief warrant officer)  
MOS: Rotary Wing Aircraft Pilot/Fixed Wing Aircraft Pilot

Sci-Fi  
File Name: Corp. Syemour P. Fine  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Infantry/Electronics

Crank-Case  
File Name: Corp. Elwood G. Indiana  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Motor Vehicle Driver/Armor

Barbecue  
File Name: Corp. Gabriel A. Kelly  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Fireman/Infantry

Recondo  
File Name: Corp. Daniel M. LeClaire  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Infantry(Jungle Warfare Specialist)/Intelligence

Rip Cord  
File Name: Corp. Wallace A. Weems  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Airborne Infantry/Demolitions

Snow Job  
File Name: Sgt. Harlan W. Moore  
Rank: E-6 (Army staff sergeant)  
MOS: Arctic Ski Patrol/Rifle Instructor

Airtight  
File Name: Corp. Kurt Schnurr  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: CBR (Chemical, Biological, and Radiological Warfare)/Ordnance

Zap  
File Name: Corp. Rafael J. Melendez  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Engineer/Infantry, Artillery

Sgt. Slaughter  
File Name: Classified Top Secret  
Rank: E-7 (Marine gunnery sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry, Drill Instructor/Survival Trainer

Beach Head  
File Name: Sgt. Wayne R. Sneeden  
Rank: E-6 (Army staff sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry(Ranger)/Small Arms Armorer

Hawk  
File Name: Gen. Clayton M. Abernathy  
Rank: O-7 (Army brigadier general)  
MOS: Artillery/Radar

Snake Eyes  
File Name: Classified  
Rank: E-5 (Army sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry(Commando)/Hand to hand combat instructor

TripWire  
File Name: Spc. Tormod S. Skoog  
Rank: E-4 (Specialist 4)  
MOS: Explosive Ordnance Disposal/Demolitions

Stalker  
File Name: Sgt. Lonzo R. Wilkinson  
Rank: E-5 (Army sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry/Medic, Interpreter

Quick Kick  
File Name: Corp. MacArthur S. Ito  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Infantry/Intelligence

Torpedo  
File Name: Edward W. Leialoha  
Rank: WO-4 (Navy chief warrant officer)  
MOS: Navy Seal/Demolitions

Scarlett  
File Name: Sgt. Shana M. O'Hara  
Rank: E-5 (Marine staff sergeant)  
MOS: Counter-Intelligence/Classified

Dial Tone  
File Name: Corp. Jack S. Morelli  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Radio Telecommunications/Infantry

Gung Ho  
File Name: Sgt. Ettiennne r. LaFitte  
Rank: E-7 (Marine gunnery sergeant)  
MOS: Recondo(Marine)/Jungle Warfare Training Instructor

Bazooka  
File Name: Sgt. David L. Katzenbogen  
Rank: E-5 (Army sergeant)  
MOS: Armor Defeating Weapons Systems/Tank driver

Rock 'n Roll  
File Name: Sgt. Craig S. McConnel  
Rank: E-5 (Army sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry/PT Instructor

Footloose  
File Name: Corp. Andrew D. Meyers  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Infantry/Special Services (basketball coach)

Quick Kick  
File Name: Corp. MacArthur S. Ito  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Infantry/Intelligence

Slip Stream  
File Name: Lt. Gregory B. Boyajian  
Rank: O-2 (Air Force first lieutenant)  
MOS: Fighter Pilot/Computer Technology

Shipwreck  
File Name: CPO Hector X. Delgado  
Rank: E-7 (Navy chief petty officer)  
MOS: Gunners Mate/Machinist

Lady Jaye  
File Name: Corp. Alison R. Hart-Burnett  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Intelligence/Personnel Clerk

Cross Country  
File Name: Sgt. Robert M. Blais  
Rank: E-5 (Army sergeant)  
MOS: Armor/Heavy Equipment Operator

Sgt Slaughter  
File Name: (Classified Top Secret)  
Rank: E-7 (Marine gunnery sergeant)  
MOS: Infantry / Drill Instructor/Survival Trainer

Mainframe  
File Name: Sgt. Blaine L. Parker  
Rank: E-5 (Marine sergeant)  
MOS: Computer Technology/Infantry

Breaker  
File Name: Corp. Alvin R. Kibbey  
Rank: E-4 (Army corporal)  
MOS: Infantry/Telecommunications


End file.
